


Follow My Lead

by AshaDev



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dancing, Emotional, First Kiss, Halloween, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paganism, Post-Purgatory, Samhain, Slow Build, Violence, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:48:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2364833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshaDev/pseuds/AshaDev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean hates Halloween. And he really hates witches. And their current hunt has both. Again.  Worst of all, they have to go undercover at a club (hello, douchebag central) and they have to wear costumes.  At least, despite Cas' protests, there is one bright side to all this. Or maybe several.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second fanfic ever (yay Labyrinth), my first SPN fanfic and first explicit fanfic. This started out as a little idea, but it turned into a monster. 
> 
> I'd GREATLY appreciate constructive criticism. I haven’t written a fanfic in many years and I want to improve. It is very different from my usual writing style. Also, please please please let me know of any errors.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Dean stomps around the reading room in the bunker, angrily flapping around the book in his hand. “Witches, man. I friggin’ hate witches!” He pauses, scowls, and jabs a finger in the air, “And! And on Halloween! Last time we did a witch hunt on Halloween, we almost got eaten and we broke a seal to Lucifer’s cage! I swear, Sammy, we need to restart the Salem witch trials and have us a good ol’ fashion evil hag cook out.  Burn these mothers extra crispy!”

Sam sighs and keeps his eyes on the map he is marking up on the table. “Dean, you do know that the so-called witches burned during the trials were just regular people? They were just victims of religious extremism.”

Dean ignores Sam and keeps ranting. “And why do _we_ have to go? Can’t some other hunter take over just once? We deserve to call in sick once in a while, y’know?!” Dean resumes his pacing, muttering under his breath.  He knows he is being particularly whiney, but he doesn’t care. Witches just plain suck.

“Seriously, dude? You’re always chomping at the bit to go on a hunt. Why are you punking out?” Sam continues over Dean’s squawking, “Besides, we can’t just pawn off this case after all the research we’ve done.  Plus, it’s not like we can kick-start a second apocalypse or cause some global catastrophe. It’s just a run of the mill hu-“

“Run of the mill?” Dean shakes the book in front of Sam, punctuating his words with each shake, “There were ten vics last year and not a single thing connecting them.  We searched practically the whole city, Sammy, and zilch!  Not to mention that we have to go undercover at a friggin’ club! You know who goes to clubs, Sam? Lame-ass douchebags.”   Dean can do without drunken morons contorting their bodies to god-awful music and looking like those inflatable, wavy tube-people at used car lots. A nice bar with chill music and hot girls is all a man really needs.

“Man, you’re being a little bitch right now.” Sam says annoyed as he gathers up the map and stuffs it into his bag.

“Shuddup, you’re the bitch, bitch!”

Sam opens his mouth to respond when he is interrupted by a familiar deep, raspy voice. “I don’t think either of you are using that insult cor-.” The sound of pages fluttering and the thump of a book hitting the marble floor cuts of the voice midsentence.

“Goddamn it, Cas! Don’t _do_ that!” Dean rasps. Cas looks at the book Dean had thrown to the floor and then looks blankly up at him.  Dean is in a partial fighting stance and feels a slight heat on his cheeks as he glares back at the angel. Despite the years of knowing the guy, every once in a while, Cas’ unannounced arrival will still make him jump. Cas is so damn quiet and it’s just creepy when he pops in out of nothing.

“It is 9:00am.” Cas says easily. He walks over to the table where Sam is packing up the tomes and gilded spell scrolls and he flips through one of the books. “My inspections have shown that there are no hexes or etchings to indicate a spell on the building itself. We can assume that the witchcraft is done contemporaneously or possibly that the victims are already bewitched before they arrive. Given the number of dead these past few years, the signs all point to failed attempts at summoning forth a powerful being”.

“That’s pretty much what our own research indicates. Any clue as to what this powerful thing is?” Sam asks, zipping up his bag. Dean eases back to normal and picks the book off the floor.

Cas looks at Dean briefly before turning to Sam. “There are many pagan deities, entities, and monsters originating from various parts of Western Europe. A few of them can only be summoned on Samhain, the day marking the start of winter, or what you know as Halloween. Many of these beings can be summoned any day of the year, but Samhain is still the most powerful summoning day.”

Dean clenches his fist and mutters “Great, another pagan monster…friggin witches, man…” before grabbing his bag and turning toward the stairs to the exit. This hunt is happening no matter what and Dean internally shudders. “Come on, let’s get this damn thing over with.” He pauses to turn around and point at Sam. “We are so getting pie after this. Lots of pie.”

Sam shrugs. “Sure, Dean.”

Dean is already outside when he yells out. “And hamburgers!”

\---

They arrive in Peoria, Illinois right around dinner time and order take-out after checking in to their crappy cookie-cutter motel. This time it’s flamingo themed.  

As Sam drives away to pick up the food, Dean collapses on his bed face first and sighs heavily as the bed creaks, whimpers, and clanks to life. He is still pissed about the whole witch thing but the steady rumble of the bed slowly eases out the tension.  He groans as his muscles begin to loosen and his eyes drift closed.

After a minute, the gaze searing into the back of his skull is unbearable and he mumbles into the pillow, “Cas, stop standing there being all creepy. Make yourself useful and pop in another quarter for me, eh?” Dean hears the rustle of Cas’ trench coat and a metallic clink next to his head. The Magic Fingers pick up pace again. Dean moans contently, “Thanks, bud.”

There’s a beat of silence before Cas asks, “Why is it called Magic Fingers? There is no witchcraft in this device. And, I thought you disliked witches.”

Dean can imagine the confused frown and the slight tilt of Cas’ head and he smiles into the pillow. He turns his head, one eye peeking out to look at Cas still standing near the coin box. Dean tries to keep his grin in check at Cas’s predictable expression. “It isn’t literal, man. It _feels_ like magic though, but good magic, more Gandalf and less Sauron.  Feels awesome.” Dean closes his eyes and sinks deeper into the mattress. “You should try it,” he mumbles sleepily.

The bed suddenly dips on one side and Dean’s eyes snap open to see the angel lying stiffly beside him with his hands clasped over his chest. “Dude, I meant on Sam’s bed.”

Cas looks blankly at the ceiling. “You are out of quarters.”

Dean stares at Cas’ profile for a while, trying to decide if he should jump out of the bed with a manly huff or if he should try to enjoy the last few heavenly rumbles before the timer runs out. Cas closes his eyes and seems to relax incrementally as the seconds go by. Dean has sat close to Cas before, has carried or has been carried by Cas in hunts, and has shared way too much personal space with him over the years, but this…this is the first time he has lied next to him and on a bed.  A panicky feeling starts to creep up his spine. There is no way he can relax now. He needs to explain to Cas the intricacies of guy to guy interaction. He turns his head slightly into the pillow to hide his reddening face. “Cas…uh…this is a bit uncomfortable, man. Remember we talked about personal space?”

Cas makes an annoyed sound and wiggles further into the bed. “Dean, you are disrupting the Magic Fingers experience. There are only 10 seconds left.”

Dean cocks an eyebrow and opens his mouth but slowly closes it again when no words come out. He tries not to stare at Cas’ smoothed out, relaxed profile or think about how he can feel Cas’ body heat even through the trench coat.  His nerves begin to overwhelm him as he continues lying there, not knowing what to do.  He does know he has to shove his rising panic down or he’ll have a freak out very soon.

_Click._

Dean almost crashes right onto the side table as he leaps out of the bed.

“What the…” Sam gapes from the doorway, two bags of take-out in one hand and the other hand still on the door knob.

“Sam. Hey!” Dean narrowly avoids stuttering. He quickly walks over to the small kitchen to conceal the flush spreading from his chest to the top of his head. He feels a bit of sweat gathering at his temples as he bends down to get a beer from the cooler.

“Tell me you didn’t corrupt Cas with your stupid obsession.” Sam walks into the room and sets the food down on the small table near the window. “I am _not_ getting you anymore quarters.”

“It is highly enjoyable,” Cas says as he sits up from the bed. “I can understand now why Dean is so vocal when he uses it.”

“Cas! What!” Dean splutters through the beer he had been desperately chugging in an attempt to calm himself down.  He mentally curses at himself as he wipes away beer from his shirt. This damn angel has a chronic case of verbal diarrhea.

Sam cackles as he digs out the food. “Yeah, Dean does tend to get pretty loud. Sometimes I hear him through the walls. One time, he was so loud that-”

“Anyway!” Dean says a bit high pitched. There is no way they are going to talk about Dean’s ‘vocalizations’ during sex. He takes another long gulp of his beer and settles into a chair. “How about we eat and focus on the plan for tomorrow.” Sam smirks at him before sitting down as well. Dean stuffs a forkful of Lo Mein into his mouth and continues talking, “We should get there early and scope out the place before the bar staff comes.”

Sam wrinkles his nose at Dean’s table manners and picks up a chunk of brown rice with his chopsticks. “Yeah, the floor plans I got are pretty old and the building was renovated a few years back, so we need to make sure we have all the exits and rooms covered.”

“Right, and we still don’t know how many witches we’re dealing with here, so we’ll need to split up.” Dean looks over at Cas who is leaning against the kitchen counter. “Cas, are you gonna be okay on your own, talking to people?” When Cas tilts his head, Dean elaborates, “You’re not exactly Joel Osteen.”

Cas narrows his eyes slightly. “I don’t understand what a man with a rather dismal grasp on the word of God has to do with talking to people.”

Dean rolls his eyes, though he’s a bit surprised Cas even knows who Dean is talking about. “I’m saying you aren’t the most…charismatic guy.  I’m worried you’ll scare the locals. You kind of suck at asking questions. And you kind of suck at faking emotion. Honestly, you kind of suck at everything to do with interacting with people.” Dean grins as he remembers something from one of Cas’ earlier attempts at discrete human interrogation, “Maybe you could interview the alley cats.”

Cas glares at him. “I’m an Angel of the Lord and a warrior, Dean.  I can’t be blamed for,” Cas raises his hands and bends his fingers into air quotes, “‘sucking’ at ‘talking’ to ‘people’. I have better things to do than learn how to ‘communicate’ with the ‘locals’.  If you don’t require my assistance, I can leave.”

“Okay, okay, enough with the stupid air quotes.  Just…try not to talk so much, okay? We need to gank these bitches tomorrow night or else we’ll have another round of John & Kate Plus Eight this year to add to our vic list. I _ain’t_ waiting another year.”

Cas narrows his eyes again but remains silent. Sam tries to hide his smile by biting into a piece of steamed broccoli.

After dinner, the brothers look over their research one more time and then settle down to watch crappy television. Dean is sitting on the edge of his bed while Sam is sitting against the headboard of his own, his long giraffe legs barely within the bed frame.  Cas remains standing stiffly near the kitchen and, after a few minutes, disappears. Dean glances over at the empty space and exhales softly.

A few minutes later, Dean hears a metallic clink, feels the bed dip behind him, and then hears a sigh as the bed begins to vibrate. He quickly twists around to see Cas lying on his back with his eyes closed and his hands resting lightly over his abdomen. “Are you freakin’ serious, Cas?”

The angel keeps his eyes closed and sighs happily again, ignoring Dean. Dean looks over at Sam who is trying to hold down a grin and pretending to be very fascinated with an infomercial on glowing pillows shaped like creepy animals.

Dean feels the tendrils of panic begin to spread in his chest again.  He pushes it down, frowns, and looks back at Cas. “Seriously? Get your own bed, man. And where’d you get the quarters?”

“They were in the small boxes attached to the laundering machines in a building down the street.”

“You _stole_ the quarters from the laundromat’s quarter machines?! I know I’m a little rusty on my bible but that _is_ still a sin, isn’t it?”

“The owner of the establishment is an extortionist and uses the business to cover up his unsavory dealings in underground dog fighting.  It is not theft if the money was not earned honestly to begin with.” Cas settles deeper into the bed.  “Now, shut up, Dean. Your voice is grating.”

Sam snorts and doesn’t try to hide his grin this time. Dean purses his lips in irritation and turns back to the television. He sits with his back straight and he clenches his hands against his thighs with the effort it takes him to keep calm and push the panic down.

It all feels too intimate and all he can think about is the angel’s heat and his frequent sighs as the bed continues to vibrate. And those vibrations going directly to Dean’s crotch. He clenches his fists harder. He feels like he’s going to pass out if he doesn’t catch his breath soon.

Finally, the rumblings stop and Castiel leaves without a word. Dean’s shoulders sag as he takes in a much needed long, quiet inhale.


	2. Shake Your Body (Down to the Ground)

The next morning, after Sam and Dean get a late breakfast at a local diner, they head to the mega superstore. Dean is glowering at the display in front of him.

“Man, besides the witches, this is the worst damn part about this stupid holiday. Why would people want to dress up as monsters?” he says as he pokes at a lame Twilight-looking bitchass vampire costume.

“Dean, god, get over it, man. It’s just a costume. We wear costumes all the time for jobs.”

“Yeah, but we don’t look like jackasses most of the time. I mean, look at this, Sam,” Dean grabs a clear vinyl bag from the display and reads from the cardboard label “’Male Psychedelic Hippie’ – this looks like the demon spawn of Bob Ross and Lisa Frank. How can any self-respecting dude wear this crap?”

“Just pick something, will you? We still need to go to the hardware store and get our supplies ready for tonight. Here, wear this.” Sam grabs a costume and shoves it into Dean’s hands.

Dean’s frown smooths out slightly. “Fine. This is probably the least douchey costume here anyway.”

“Don’t forget to pick out something for Cas.”

Dean hadn’t even thought about Cas’ costume. His eyes light up and his lips curl into a mischievous grin. After a few minutes of looking through the racks, he exclaims “A-ha!” He chuckles to himself as he shows Sam his prize.

“You are so lame.” Sam shakes his head but can’t help smiling a little in amusement.

\---

Dinner is quick and the brothers have almost everything in order when they pray to Cas. The angel appears immediately and strides over the table where the supplies and weapons are piled up.

“Good job. This should be enough to take down the witch.” Cas looks up and reaches out his arms to the two hunters. “Let’s go.”

Dean puts his hands up and leans away from Cas’ fingers. “Woah, woah, wait a second, Cas. We need to put on our costumes. This is a Halloween party and we need to blend in.” Dean pauses and grins. “We got you something too.” He reaches into a shopping bag and pulls out Cas’ costume.

Cas stares at the costume for a moment and then flicks his eyes up at Dean. “No.”

“Oh, c’mon! It’s a good costume! You can’t go in there without one, Cas. They won’t let you through the doors.” Truthfully, the bouncer probably won’t care or may even assume that Cas’ everyday disheveled outfit _is_ his costume.  His appearance is definitely reminiscent enough of one or two famous characters. Still, Dean is eager to see Cas in the costume and shoves it into the angel’s hands.

Cas turns to look at Sam incredulously. Sam shrugs and goes into the bathroom to put on his own costume. Cas glowers at Dean, who smiles with a roguish glint in his eyes.

-

A few minutes later, Cas is looking extremely pissed off.  “This is humiliating, Dean. These don’t look anything like mine.” He rolls his shoulders with discomfort.

Dean hasn’t stopped laughing since Cas put on his costume and he is still chuckling as he puts on his own costume. “It’s hilarious. C’mon, an angel dressed as an _angel_!” Cas looks over his shoulder at the small, white wings and his eyebrows knit into a deep frown of disgust and indignation.  Dean cracks up again. “You can tell people you’re a holy tax accountant!” Cas’ eyes narrow to thin slits and he huffs. Cas might not understand the humor in it all, but Dean is genuinely enjoying the angel’s exasperation. Dean rarely gets to laugh so deeply and honestly and it usually comes at the hands or expense of Cas. Every once in a while, the hunter will think how thankful he is for his best friend.  But of course, internal chick flick moments like that are quashed readily whenever they pop up.

Sam comes back out and finishes tying his bandana. He slides his fake pirate sword into his belt. “Okay Dean, stop pissing off the angel. We need to get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go.” Dean grabs his cowboy hat and goes to the table for his fake revolver, making sure his real gun is hidden well on his back. He looks back up at Cas and smirks as he lifts up a golden fluffy ring attached to a small headband. “Don’t wanna forget this!”

Cas’ eyes flash in annoyance. “I believe the phrase ‘You suck’ is appropriate in this context.”

\---

Even though it’s still early and the place isn’t open yet, there is a crowd already gathered near the club’s entrance.  The trio walks out from the alley where they angel zapped and they get in line. Sam frowns a little. “I guess we underestimated the popularity of this place.”

Since their plans to inspect are derailed, Dean takes to admiring the barely-there costumes of the women around them. “Well, hellooo Ms. Spock.”

“Enjoying yourself, Dean?” Sam rolls his eyes but doesn’t hide his interest when a woman wearing a rather revealing Minnie Mouse costume walks by.

Dean grins and glances at Cas who is standing still and looking fairly uncomfortable. “Relax, Cas. They’re just boobs.”

“I know what breasts are, Dean.” Cas sighs. He shrugs his shoulders as if attempting to get something off his back. “These wings are demeaning and this halo is ridiculous.”

“Well, you probably don’t have to wear the halo, Cas, as long as you’ve got some kind of costume on. The wings should be enough.” Sam says, looking at him with some pity.

Cas immediately snatches the halo off his head and stuffs it into his coat pocket with a thankful look at Sam.

“Aw, you’re no fun, Sam.” Dean chuckles and turns back to look at the costumes or lack thereof, making jokes and lewd comments while they wait for the club to open. Several minutes pass before the line begins to move. As they get closer to the entrance, the deep thumping of music can be heard over the buzz of talking, laughing, and yelling. After getting their wristbands, they make their way in to the club set up to look like a futuristic warehouse with the obligatory colored strobe lights, giant disco ball, and fog machines. A big group of people are already dancing and moving around the dance floor. The loud, way too amped DJ welcomes everyone to the party and the music changes into vibrating taps and hissing sounds.

 

_…if you can be good, you'll live forever, if you're bad, you'll die when you die…_

 

The three men gather to the side and check out the layout of the building, noting all the exits and possible hiding spots. After they have it memorized, Sam turns back to the group. “Okay guys, let’s split up. Dean, you take the loft area, I’ll go over to the tables and booths.  Cas, you try the bar.  We’ll meet at the top of the loft stairs at 11.”  They start going in opposite directions when Sam taps Dean’s arm. “Oh and Dean, I know it’s difficult for you but use your upstairs brain tonight, okay?”

 

Dean widens his eyes in fake offense. “Sammy, we’re on the job. I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m a _professional_.”

 

Sam rolls his eyes. “Right. Just try not to get too sidetracked.” Sam turns and heads for the cluster of tables to one side of the dance floor. Dean smiles at Cas, who is doing his usual intense staring at Dean. Dean claps and rubs his hands together.

 

_…And if I, and if I need a rhythm, it's gonna be to my heart I listen…_

 

“Alright, let’s get to work.”

 

\---

 

They split up and spend the next few hours talking to the few people that aren’t completely wasted. By 11pm, the crowd has swelled, jampacking the place beyond the fire code limit. The stuffy heat of hundreds of human bodies and florescent colored lights is only slightly soothed by vents on the roof and two giant fans hanging on the walls. The crowd cheers as the music changes tempo.

 

Dean is standing at a high bar table on the loft, flirting with a very sexy ninja turtle. She giggles and Dean slides a hand over hers. Dean knows he’s still on the job but why shouldn’t he have at least some fun on this crappy witch hunt? Nothing wrong with a little flirting and the possibility of a good time later tonight if everything goes smoothly.

 

_…no pido que todos los días sean de sol, no pido que todos los viernes sean de fiesta…_

 

“So maybe later, we can…?” He trails off and quirks one side of his mouth up wide, his eyes intent on hers. He’s going for his signature move tonight. The girl twists the straw in her drink around her mouth and giggles some more, looking up coyly.

 

Jackpot.

 

Dean rubs his thumb over her hand. He leans forward and whispers a few of the things he would like to do to her, making sure that his lips lightly graze the outer shell of her ear. The girl’s breath speeds up a little and her eyes flicker with arousal.

 

The club suddenly gets louder and they both glance down to the eruption of cheers on the dance floor. The crowd has formed a circle around two people who are moving against each other to the sultry Latin pop music playing. Dean stares a bit longer, squinting his eyes, and then it finally registers.

 

It’s Cas.

 

Cas is dancing with a sexy German bar wench right in the middle of the dance floor.  Dean’s brain feels sluggish as he tries to process the sight before him.

 

Cas is dancing. And he’s pretty damn good.  Cas tugs and turns the woman in his arms gracefully.  His hips move easily and his feet are light and confident.

 

_…yo sé que no he sido un santo, pero lo puedo arreglar, amor…_

 

Dean is so caught up staring that he doesn’t realize the ninja turtle girl is trying to talk to him and regain his attention. After a minute, she stomps away in a huff.  Dean can focus on nothing but the scene below. He distantly feels a growing warmth spread through him as he watches the woman slide her hands under Cas’ trench coat and jacket, pushing them back to expose the tight white shirt over his chest. She sweeps her hands deeper into his jacket and pushes herself against him as he stares down at her intently, following her hips with his own, his fake angel wings fluttering as he moves. She smiles and grabs his tie with one hand, slowly sliding her fingers down to the tip. Cas’ hands move to her hips and he spins her around, cradling her from behind and parting his legs as he settles against her. She gyrates her hips to the beat and then turns to crouch in front of him. Cas keeps his eyes on her as she looks up at him seductively and smooths her hands over his thighs. He grabs one of her hands and pulls her up flush against him, one of his legs wedged between hers. They sway and push and grind to the music.

 

_…yo solo soy un hombre muy arrepentido, soy como el ave que vuelve a su nido…_

By now, Dean is pressed up against the loft rails, his eyes never leaving Cas.

 

_…Aaaay... Aaaay... Aaaay... Ay Ay Ay, todo lo que he hecho por tí…_

The music fades into to a new song and Cas releases the woman.  The throng of people around the duo is roaring with claps, whoops, and hollers. The angel doesn’t seem to notice and he looks to the bar wench. She smiles and pulls him by the hand through the masses. The dance floor fills up again and Dean loses sight of Cas. He blinks rapidly a few times as if to make sure what he just saw wasn’t imagined. The way Cas moved was incredible. Smooth, agile, strong, and…sexy. That last thought stops Dean short and he suddenly comes back to himself and his surroundings.

 

That’s when Dean realizes he is leaning over the rail. That’s also when Dean realizes his jeans are slightly tight. His stomach drops to his feet.

 

“Shit…”

 

Before Dean can freak out about why he is half hard in public, he spots Sam climbing the stairs to the loft.  Dean immediately takes off his hat and tries to place it casually across his thighs. Sam wouldn’t notice the slight bulge, especially in this dark lighting, but it’s just wrong talking to his little brother with a semi in his pants. Sam walks up to him with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. “Dean! Did you see that?!”

 

“See what?”

 

“Cas, man! I had no idea he could dance like that, or dance at all really.” Sam looks out at the crowd below with awe.

 

“What? Cas? Great, dancing angelic troupes. Just what we need.” Dean forces himself to laugh, though it sounds strained. He clears his throat. “So did you find out anything? I’ve spoken to about a dozen people and none of them know a damn thing.”

 

Sam sighs. “No, nothing on my end either. This witch is good at covering their tracks, that’s for sure. I haven’t noticed anybody acting weird. I mean, beyond the usual drunk idiots.” Even Sam’s never-ending patience seems to be wearing thin in this place.

 

“Maybe the witch isn’t going for the gold this year.  Like, maybe they packed up and moved on.” Dean attempts to sound casual, while silently willing his slight, but annoying erection to go away. He tries to think of boner killers. Maggot-infested corpses. Bobby in daisy dukes. Zachariah in…well, Zachariah period.

 

“Yeah, doubt it.” Sam scans the loft and lifts his chin in the direction of the stairs. “Hey, here comes, Cas.” Dean jolts. Cas is walking steadily toward them; his jacket and trench coat are still slightly pushed back from his chest and his hair is more disheveled than usual, but his face is stoic as always.

 

“Sam, Dean” Cas says cooly. “I have information.”

 

Dean smirks. “Thought you’d run off with the bar wench.” The thought makes Dean cringe a little. And a second too late, Dean realizes his mistake. Shit.

 

“I thought you hadn’t see him dance.” Sam says with a slightly raised eyebrow.

 

Dean flushes and shrugs. He adjusts his hat across his crotch. “So, what you got, Cas?”

 

“The bartender told me that she has noticed one particular patron every year for the past few years. It is a man always dressed in a vampire costume.”

 

Dean scoffs, “Vampire costume…that’s original.” Cas keeps talking over him.

 

“He comes alone. He never talks to anyone except when ordering at the bar.  She said something about him felt off but she never thought about it until I asked. She says she saw him earlier tonight.”

 

“Okay, that’s something then. We should keep an eye out for a vampire who’s alone.” Sam surveys the mass of people around them. “…This might take a while.”

 

“Wait, did she say anything else? Like if she ever saw him leave with anyone?” Dean doesn’t want to miss any details. This witch needs to be ganked tonight because Dean does not feel like playing hide-and-go-seek with this evil sonofabitch for another year.

 

“I’m afraid not. She did mention that he had an accent, but does not know its origin.” Cas’ eyes flick for a second to the hat Dean is still holding in front of his lap.  Dean shifts uncomfortably. Is Cas using some angel vision? Oh god.

 

Cas continues talking, “There isn’t a large foreign population in this city besides a Lebanese community, so that should help us narrow it down.”

 

“Alright, so let’s split up. I’ll survey the dance floor. You guys tackle this floor. Call if you spot him.”

 

“Why can’t you and Cas do the loft and I, uh, take the dance floor?”  The last thing Dean needs is to be alone with Cas while Cas still looks like _that_.  Dean hasn’t even had time to have a proper freak out yet.

 

“Because you’re a leprechaun and we need to be able to see everyone out on the dance floor quickly. The loft has more hiding places so you’ll need backup.” Sam has a small smile playing at his lips when he sees Dean’s scowl.

 

Dean huffs. “ _You’re_ the gigantor freak, Sam. _I’m_ normal.”

 

“Sam is right, Dean.  His height advantage will make it easier for him to see the club patrons.”

 

“Shuddup, Cas.” Dean is slightly irritated now. “You’re supposed to be on my side, man. If you’d recall, I’m your charge. Besides you’re the shortest one.”

 

Cas glares. “I am always on your side, Dean, even when you’re being an insufferable idiot.  And if _you_ will recall, my true form is approximately the size of the Chrysler building.  I am not short by any meaning of the word.  So, in fact, you are the shortest of the three of us, Dean.”

 

Sam snorts out a laugh at his brother’s gaping face. “C’mon shortstop, we have a job to do.”

 

Dean frowns and mutters under his breath. “Damn sasquatches and wiseass angels…”

 

\---

 

“So twinkle toes, what was up with the John Travolta moves down there? I thought you were possessed by Swayze’s ghost.” Dean smirks at the angel as they navigate slowly around one end of the loft. They got rid of their costumes to move around easier but luckily Dean’s earlier excitement is no longer a problem. Not that it matters if Cas was using his angel x-ray vision. He probably saw…everything. Dean decides not to think about that.

 

“Occupied vessels cannot be possessed, Dean. If you are referring to the dancing I engaged in, it was necessary to extract information from the bartender.” Cas keeps his eyes on the moving stream of people.

 

“You shook your ass for a favor? There’s a joke in there somewhere…” Dean homes in on a vampire talking to a Little Bo Beep, but he is loud, half drunk, and chugging cheap skunk piss beer. A creep for sure, but not their creep. Dean turns back to the angel, still smirking.

 

“Yes, the bartender would not answer my questions and proposed that I dance with her in exchange for information. She was quite insistent.”

 

“Uh, okay, not weird at all.” Dean raises an eyebrow. “How the hell do you know how to dance anyway? You’ve got a perpetual stick up your ass, almost literally. Apart from being dicks, I thought angels were all work, no play.”

 

Cas rolls his eyes and stops to look intently at Dean. “Dancing is not an unknown concept to angels.  Many angels have taken to the human custom in the last two millennia.”

 

“Oh my god.  Are you like _actually_ in an angelic dancing troupe?!” Dean guffaws but cuts himself off when he sees a very pissed off look edging into Cas’ eyes.

 

“No, we don’t have a troupe. I have never danced before today.”

 

Dean raises both eyebrows high. “So how the hell did you know how to dance? I mean, that was, uh, pretty good. For an angel.” Dean averts his eyes, focusing on something over Cas’ shoulder. He doesn’t know why he’s being weird.

 

Cas looks down shyly. “Metatron. During one of our meetings, he gave me all his knowledge of all the books he had read and movies he had seen. A few of them were about dancing.”

 

Dean is looking at Cas again. “You learned to dance like that from a book? Wow, you really are a nerd angel.” Dean puffs out another laugh.

 

“Well, most of it was from books and a few movies. Some…um, well, some of it was my own invention.” Cas’ eyes flick up to look at Dean quickly before moving back down to the floor.

 

Dean feels a heat start to creep up his face. Now Cas is being weird. Weirder, rather. “That’s, um, cool. I guess.” He coughs once. “Let’s, uh, keep looking.” He starts walking ahead and surveying the crowd again.  Dean shakes his head slightly in an attempt to rattle out the images floating around of Cas moving his hips effortlessly and gyrating them to the music. Goddamn it.  He _really_ needs to have his freak out soon.

 

After a beat, he sees Cas join him from the corner of his eye. “Thank you.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For your compliment. I have found that I enjoy dancing. It is similar to fighting.”

 

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure, man.” Dean scrunches his eyes shut for a second, hoping that this is the end of the conversation.

 

“I highly recommend it. It helps alleviate stress and is a pleasurable form of physical exercise, which I know you are adverse to. It also doesn’t require any equipment so you can do it anywhere on your hunts.”

 

Dean snorts. “Yeah, no. I’m not the dancing type, Cas. Hunters don’t dance unless it’s the horizontal kind, y’know what I mean?” Dean winks at him and pats him on the back as he moves ahead again. What the hell is this angel even saying right now? Has he met Dean?

 

“Your father was a hunter and he often danced with your mother.” Cas says casually from behind him as they walk.

 

Dean hesitates in his stride for a second. “First of all, my dad didn’t become a hunter until after my mom died, and second of all, he was married. It’s like an obligation to dance with your wife.” Dean continues sweeping the room as they keep walking.

 

“I am certain that dancing is not a requirement for betrothal. In any case, your mother was a hunter and had always enjoyed dancing.  Dancing is not limited to occupation or marital status, Dean.”

 

“Still not the dancing type, buddy. It’s a waste of time.” Dean needs to put an end to this now.  How does Cas even know about what his mom liked? “Let’s focus on work, alright? It’s almost midnight and we still haven’t found crap.”

 

“Very well.” Cas says. Dean thinks he imagines a slight hint of irritation in his voice. Still, he is relieved to have silence again.

 

After a few minutes, Dean feels his phone vibrating in his back pocket. “Sammy, you find something?”

 

_“Not sure. I’ve got my eyes on this strange guy dressed as an old school vampire right now, like the old timey movie, y’know? He’s just standing there, staring out. I can’t see his face that well, but he’s older than most of the people here.  I haven’t heard him speak yet, but he definitely looks out of place. I swear he looks kind of familiar. We haven’t had a witch case up here before, have we?”_

“No, pretty sure we haven’t. Keep an eye on him. I’m near the far end of the loft. Where are you?” Dean walks to the rail and looks down at the people below. “Wave or something.” He scans the floor until he spots Sam. Sam looks up at him and then shifts his eyes to a man standing against the wall a few yards ahead, his face covered in shadow. “Got ‘im. I’ll come around the other side. Cas will wait by the rear exit. Let’s bag this bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs:  
> Ramalama (Bang Bang) by Roisin Murphy
> 
> La Tortura by Shakira ft. Alejandro Sanz


	3. Howl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter. Hope you enjoy.

There is a steady pounding in his head and he shivers from the frigid, slightly damp floor.  Dean lets out groan, opening his eyes slowly, and finds that he is in a small dark room that reminds him of a dungeon, and not the sexy kind. The smell of moisture and mold permeates the air. He tries to get up but his hands are bound with rope to a metal ring bolted to the cement floor.

 

“I thought we had come to a mutually understood agreement that we wouldn’t cross paths again, Dean.”  A familiar, clear male voice cuts across the darkness. There is a flare of a lit match and then the warm glow of a candle.

 

“Who are you, you bastard? Where are we? What the hell do you want?” Dean growls out. He tries to clear his vision and squints at the dark outline of a man slowly lighting candles around the room.

 

The man clucks his tongue. “Well, I’m a bit disappointed you don’t remember me, Dean.” He turns around and raises a hand, making the rest of the candles scattered around burst to life, lighting up the room and his face.

 

“The hell…Don?! What the hell are you doing here?! Are you the dick killing all these people?!” Dean pulls at his restraints.

 

“So many questions, Dean.” Don says cooly.

 

“Where are Sam and Cas?!”

 

“They’re fine. I’ve made sure to send them looking for you somewhere far from here.” Don turns his back to Dean and goes to an old wooden table covered in various jars and bowls. “You know, this actually works out perfectly. It was taking me forever to find the perfect tenth sacrifice.”

 

It has been years since he last saw Don and he had stupidly thought that the witch had somehow reformed enough to stop killing people. Don is powerful and dangerous. And Dean has no back up. Shit. He should have ganked the dick when he had the chance back then. That’s what happens when you take mercy on monsters.

 

Dean’s attention goes to the ropes he’s tied to. He twists his hands incrementally. He needs to buy himself some time. “The bartender said you were a foreigner.”

 

Don clears his throat and takes on an English accent. “Oh, Dean, it’s so easy to fool these simpletons.”

 

Dean wiggles around and pushes his fingers through one of the knots. “Wow. That’s a pretty horrible accent.” Dean adjusts his position slightly to get better access at the rope. His side is starting hurt from the cold ground. “So what? Now you’re faking accents? That desperate to get laid? Does Maggie know?” Dean sneers.

 

Don slams a bowl down on the table, his back still to Dean. “Shut up.”

 

“Woah, woah, touchy. What, you lovebirds having problems again? You really should see a counselor, or better yet, a divorce lawyer ‘cause, seriously man, you definitely need to find someone who isn’t a complete psycho bitch.”

 

“Shut up!” Don turns around quickly and crouches to grab Dean roughly by his shirt collar. His voice goes low and hard. “Stop talking. Stop talking about Maggie. She’s…” He stops himself and lets go of Dean. His voice is back to normal when he speaks again. “I’d really save all my talking for prayer or last rites if I were you.” He smirks and heads back to the table.

 

Dean lights up at an idea and quickly scans the room. There is a small window at the very top of the wall near his head. He closes his eyes. “Cas?” He whispers, barely audible. He doesn’t risk anything more than that and hopes to hell that Cas can hear prayers via thought. _Uh, Castiel? It’s Dean. The douchebag got me. It’s a witch named Don. I don’t know where I am exactly. There’s a red and blue neon sign outside but I can’t make out the letters. Pretty sure I’m in some kind of basement, smells like ass down here. There’s some moonlight shining through the window. Cars nearby. I don’t know what this bastard is planning to do, but it looks like I’m staying for dinner, so uh, get your feathery twinkle-toe ass down here, okay?_

Dean goes back to working at his binds. “So since I’m going to die anyway, mind telling me what the hell you’re planning? Dying man’s wish and all?”

 

“Yes, of course, because I’m a movie villain that goes into a long monologue just before the big finale where the hero busts in at the last minute to save the day.” Don hums. “Not going to happen. I’m in real estate.  Always have to think ahead and see every possible outcome. Plus, time is money.” Don continues pouring ingredients into a bowl.

 

“Oh, c’mon Donny, I’m pretty tied up at the moment so it’s not like I can slit your throat from here, as much as I really like the idea.” Dean feels the knot he has been working on slowly come loose.

 

“You’re a hunter. So hard pass on that, Dean. I’m not taking that risk.” Don throws a pinch of red powder into the bowl.

 

“Geez, paranoid much?” The knot is almost undone. “Lots of stuff you got on that table there, Don.  I’m guessing you aren’t writing a letter to Satan and his jolly demon-elves to ask for that Malibu Barbie you always wanted.”

 

Don snorts.“You really are the dumb one, aren’t you, Dean? Cracking jokes even when you are about to die. Very sexist jokes, by the way. It’s the 21st century, for goodness’ sake.” Don looks back at Dean and shakes his head in mock pity. “Can’t be helped I guess. All the dumb ones do get better deaths at least. I think it’ll befitting of a man like you, who’s been through so much.”

 

The first knot is undone and Dean fumbles for the second one. Dean smiles up sweetly at Don. “Gotta do something to keep myself entertained around douchenozzles like you.” Dean is slightly perplexed at what Don could mean. _Been through so much?_

 

Don shakes his head again with a small smile before turning away. He walks over to the far wall and into a closet. There is the sound of heavy dragging and he emerges with a rope in each hand.  Tied to the ropes are a bound man and a woman on their backs. Don pulls them across the floor to settle near Dean. He goes into the closet a few more times until there are nine people still in their Halloween costumes squirming around. Dean doesn’t understand why they aren’t hysterical like usual until he notices that they don’t have mouths. “What the hell…dude, that is super freakin’ creepy. Why couldn’t you just gag them like a _normal_ evil dick?”

 

Don doesn’t spare a glance at Dean and goes back to the table. “Let’s begin, shall we?” He lights the bowl with a sweep of his hand and begins chanting.

 

The people on the floor begin to twist and turn with fear, their eyes going wide and looking around frantically. Dean finally gets his fingers under the second knot of rope and works quickly to get it loose. _C’mon Cas, hurry up. The shit is about to hit the proverbial fan down here, man_.  

Don’s chanting gets louder and a bright light appears in the center of the floor. The ground trembles softly at first but the tremors become more and more violent.  There is a huge shockwave that cracks the cement into several pieces and the trembling stops. The chunks begin to sink and disappear into a blindly bright, round opening. Dean is still working at the rope when he hears a loud, terrifying, monstrous squeal. His hands freeze and his heart drops to his stomach. The distorted squeal comes again and Dean stares at the opening on the floor with wide eyes. He only has a moment to stare before an enormous black shape looms out of the hole, its features washed out by the intense light under it. The people on the floor try to desperately scramble away from the thing now making a loud snorting sound.

 

Don stops chanting and looks at the shape before him. “O, creadur gwych. Rwy'n cynnig i chi aberthau hyn.” He bows his head. “Fel eich was ostyngedig, os gwelwch yn dda roi i mi yr un cais.  Dychwelyd i mi fy anwylyd.” The shape huffs and then lets out a high pitched squeal. Don smiles wide and lifts his head. “Thank you.”

The light from the opening dims and the monster finally becomes visible.

Dean breathes in sharply. “What in the _fuck_ is that?!” The creature before him is immense and black with large tusks protruding from a horrible drooling snout.  Its small black eyes are barely visible from the folds of dried skin covered in patches of thick black fur and warts. Its enormous body is riddled with pustules and open sores, a long sharp ridge of fur lining its back.  Its hooves are sharpened like claws and its long tail swats at the air. It twists its massive head toward Dean and puffs out a rank burst of air. “Shit, shit, shit! Cas! CAS!” Dean shouts and pulls violently at his binds as he realizes that the monster is going to charge at him.

Then Cas is there, standing in front of the creature and he plunges his blade into its thick neck. The creature roars and shakes his head ferociously. Don cries out and scrambles against a wall, staring in disbelief at the man’s sudden appearance.

Dean is on the verge of tears with relief. “Cas!”

Cas takes a step back away from the monster, never moving his eyes from it. “Sam, get everyone out of here.”

Sam, who Dean hadn’t noticed was standing a few feet away and gaping at the monster, spurs into action. “Dean!” He quickly frees Dean and helps him up. “What the hell is that?!”

“Dude, no idea!” They turn to the people on the floor and swiftly remove their bonds. They find the exit and Sam leads them out. Dean stays behind and walks quickly toward Don, punching him right in the nose. “Time to close down the animal farm, you friggin’ bastard!” Don falls to the floor with the impact and groans.

“Dean! Watch out!” Cas yells. Dean turns in time to see the monster charge. He jumps to the side and Cas is in front of him again, grabbing the monster’s tusks and fighting to hold on. “Dean, you have to send it back!”

“Send it back where?! How?! Your blade didn’t do shit, it just pissed it off! Seriously, what the hell is that, Cas?!” Dean’s eyes flit around the room, looking for some kind of weapon.

“Now’s not the time, Dean!” Cas struggles against the monster as it thrashes its head around to get the angel off of him and squeals in rage.

“How the hell am I supposed to send it back if I don’t know what it is!?” Dean finds a long metal pipe and inches closer to the beast, trying to find the best angle to strike.

Don speaks up from a sitting position on the floor, resignation on his face.  “It’s Yr Hwch Ddu Gwta. It is a demonic pig that appears on Nos Calan Gaeaf. It controls spirits.”

Dean stops and stares wide-eyed at Don. “A demonic pig?! How do you kill it?!”

“You can’t. You can only send it back to its realm”

“Well, send it back!”

“No. If I can’t have Maggie back, I don’t care what he does.  He can kill the whole town if he wants. Not my concern.” Don looks at Dean with empty, dead eyes before leaning his head back against the wall and closing them.

“You son of a bitch!” Dean yells angrily.

“Dean! Focus! Get the bowl and pour in that green liquid next to it.” Dean rushes to the table and dumps it in. “Now add some of your blood, along with the rodent entrails. Stir them and repeat after me.” Cas chants and Dean follows. The beast begins to slow its thrashing and becomes increasingly sluggish, eventually falling to the floor in a daze when the chant ends. Cas places a hand on its head and recites a long string of words in Enochian. The floor opens up in a flash and the monster sinks into the light. The opening closes and everything settles.

“Holy shit…” Dean whispers, slumping against the table. “I’m never eating a BLT again.”

Don moans from his spot on the floor. Dean looks over at him and isn’t sure if he wants to punch him again or just shoot him between the eyes.

“Maggie…I’m sorry.” Don says into his hands, covering his face. Dean and Cas exchange looks before Dean grabs Don by his shirt and pulls him up.

“Party’s over” Don lets himself get dragged toward Cas. Without warning, the angel places two fingers on his forehead and Don screams in agony. “Woah! What’d you do, Cas?!”

“I have blocked his ability to practice witchcraft.” Don moans again and his head falls forward. Cas vanishes with Don and reappears a minute later. “He’s back home.” He murmurs. Dean notes the downward pulls of his mouth and the crease in his forehead.

“Shit. I didn’t know you could block magic like that. That dick was trying to get his psycho wife back from the dead by offering people as sacrifices…” Dean looks a little stunned and disgusted. He and Sam have died several times over the years but neither one of them would ever _purposely_ sacrifice other people’s lives to get the other back.

“Love can make humans do many regrettable things.” Cas sighs and raises a hand across the room. All the ingredients, bowls, and jars disappear.

Dean stares at Cas, perplexed. “Why are you so bummed out? He was crazy, man. Other hunters would have killed him then and there and he would have deserved it. ”

Cas turns to face Dean. “Nevertheless, the loss of a loved one is…” Cas stops and looks up at the ceiling, his eyebrows knitting together into a pained expression. “Let’s go find Sam.”

\---

After a bullshit explanation about how they had been roofied, the civilians are all sent home safely and, thanks to Cas, with their mouths back in place. The three men double check the basement and then fly back to the alley near the club. Cas remains silent the entire time and Dean glances worriedly at him as they stride toward the building. They want to do one last sweep of the place to make sure Don didn’t leave any surprises behind. Dean hasn’t forgotten the nice goodie bag Maggie left in his hotel room last time.

They slowly walk around and through the mostly drunk, dancing crowd, all of them oblivious to how close they could have been to dying tonight. A few minutes pass and Sam nudges Dean on the side and they fall back a few steps, away from Cas. “Hey, what’s up with Cas?” he whispers.

“Not a damn clue. He was fine earlier. After he fought Porky Pig and took Don home, he just kinda…shut down.” Dean watches as Cas scans everything with military precision, though there is a slight slump to his shoulders.

“Talk to him, man. Something must have happened.”

“What? Why me? You’re the touchy feely giant girl. You talk to him.” Dean wants to help Cas but talking about feelings is his kryptonite. He will only suffer through it unless something is Apocalypse-level messed up.

Sam shakes his head like Dean’s a moron and sighs. “Dean, he’s your best friend. And he saved your ass back there. Again. For the hundredth time. The least you can do is man the hell up and try to find out why your angel looks like he just watched five hours of ASPCA commercials.”

Dean lets out a puff of air in resignation because he really can’t say anything to that. Cas did just save his life and he does seem genuinely bothered about something. But Dean really sucks at this kind of thing and he always feels like a jackass when he tries.

Sam taps him on the shoulder. “I’ll meet you guys back at the bar.”

Dean watches Sam go and then stares hard at his own boots for a few minutes before he grits his teeth and strides forward to catch up with Cas.

Cas is staring fiercely at a man wearing a devil costume when Dean comes up quietly behind him. “Cas?”

Cas turns to Dean as if he knew he was coming, which he probably did. “Dean.”

“What’re you doin’? Find something?” Dean fidgets a little.

“No, nothing. We’re almost done here. I’ll head up to the loft and do a final sweep.” Dean knows  instinctively that Cas is about to use the angel express and he quickly grabs Cas’ arm before he can fly away.

“Hold up, man.” Cas stares at him and then down at where Dean is grabbing his arm tightly. “Uh, sorry.” Dean lets him go and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Cas, what’s up with you, man? You’ve been all quiet since you got back from Don’s house. Did something happen? He do something to you?” At that thought, Dean gets a bit more worried and angry. What did the douchecanoe do to his angel?

Cas keeps staring at Dean for several seconds, longer even than the usual lengthy stares he and Dean share. “It’s nothing, Dean.” He says finally.

“Don’t go all Winchester on me, man.  I know something is wrong. Now tell me what’s going on. You can’t still be hung up on that thing with Don wanting to get Maggie back?” Dean catches a fleeting expression on Cas’ face that looks a lot like pain. “Shit, man, people die all the time. It’s sad and everything, but that’s just how it is.” Dean is surprised he was able to say that with a straight face. He and Sam are the poster boys for cheating death which is a gift and a curse, but the deaths of their friends and family always felt like they were wrong, unfair, unnatural. Their deaths didn’t feel the same way it felt when Dean was eight and a nice old lunch lady from one of their many schools, the one who always gave Dean extra peach cobbler, had died.  That was a sad occasion and even then, in Dean’s little mind, he knew it was just a fact of life. “We can’t save everyone, everywhere, every time.” Dean is on a roll with the bullshit coming out of his mouth. If there was ever a guilt-ridden, self-loathing, broken soul, it is Dean’s. Every single human death during his life as a hunter feels like it was his fault, or at the very least, like he could have and should have prevented it somehow.

Cas shakes his head. “That’s not it, Dean.” Cas looks like he has more to say but he walks toward the loft stairs and Dean follows. They do a quick walkthrough and go back down to the first floor, neither one of them saying anything. Eventually, they go to the backdoor exit and emerge into an alley for the final look-over. The night has grown colder and Dean zips up his jacket a little. Despite a few burnt-out or broken bulbs on some of the lamps lining the alley, it isn’t too dark. A few bright lights shine on the ground like spotlights.

The hunter and the angel stand next to each other and stare out into the night. “Then what is it?” Dean prompts.

“Free will is really a burden sometimes.” Cas says, still looking up at the few stars visible through the city’s light pollution, though Dean imagines that Cas can see all the stars and more with his angelic super-vision. “The emotions humans must deal with on a daily basis, on an hourly basis…it must be overwhelming. How can you stand it?” Cas looks over at Dean.

“We have a lot of years to get used to them.” Dean doesn’t know what Cas is talking about or where he’s going with this. They’ve had similar conversations many times before but this one feels a little different.

“Back there, when Yr Hwch Ddu Gwta charged at you, I was frightened, Dean.” Cas’ eyes go sad at the still fresh memory. Dean feels a sharp clinch in his chest at Cas’ expression. So Cas had been worried about him. Something warm seeps into his bones at the thought.

“Hey, man, I’m okay now, thanks to you. You saved me from turning into that thing’s new tusk accessory.” Dean clasps Cas’ shoulder warmly. “No point in worrying about it now. It’s over.”

Cas’ gaze turns to the nearest street lamp. “I know.” Cas takes a few steps forward and says over his shoulder. “We should finish inspecting the area.”

Dean looks at the angel walk away and wonders if he managed to do anything all or if he just made everything worse. The fact that Cas is still dwelling on everything is starting to make Dean uneasy. Cas is rarely this emotional and when he is, it’s usually anger or exasperation at something Dean did or said. Surely it can’t _just_ be that Cas was worried about him. Dean is just a bacteria, a microbe in the grand scheme of things, as per Death’s declaration.

Dean doesn’t know what else to say. Damn it, he knew Sam should have been the one on chick flick moment duty. He lets Cas get a couple of more feet ahead and then jogs lightly to catch up. “Cas, how about we get some burgers after this?” Dean might not know his way around words, but he knows food. “I hear there’s a great little 24 hour place around here with burgers the size of your head.” Dean grins at Cas but it falters almost immediately. Cas’ eyes are roaming the alley but they remain gloomy and pained.  The expression is slowly starting to tear at Dean and he is growing desperate to make it go away.

“Cas, look at me.” The angel stops and turns to Dean. “What can I do, man? You know I’m no good at these things. Sam’s much better at dealing with crap than I am. I mean, usually I just get drunk but I don’t think we want you drinking another liquor store.”

Cas looks down at the ground and remains silent. “C’mon man. What do you want? I’m game for anything. Strip club? Book club? Maybe a good movie? A bad movie? I hear the Human Centipede sucks.” Cas’ miserable expression doesn’t change. “I mean, shit, what do angels do for fun? Or is being douchebags a 24/7 thing for them?”

“We sing.”

“Uh…” Dean isn’t shocked, but singing? Really? “I can try some karaoke but I really doubt it’ll make you feel better. I can listen to you sing if you want.” Dean isn’t a bad singer and he loves to belt out rock songs in the car, especially to annoy Sam, but he can’t sing like how he imagines angels must sing. Probably all…angelic, or something.

“If I sang in my true voice, your eardrums would burst.” Cas says matter-of-factly.

“Oh. Well, what else do you do, that I could help you with and not like, y’know die or lose a limb from?” He remembers when Cas first tried to talk to him, he almost passed out at the empty gas station.

“That’s really nothing, Dean. This will pass. It’s fine.”

“I can’t leave my buddy hanging like this.” Dean thinks it’s well overdue that Cas gets to pick where to go anyway. He and Sam usually just play pool. “C’mon, just pick whatever nerdy thing you want and Sam and I will do it with you.”

“It’s fine, Dean.”

“--We went to a renaissance LARPing thing once. That was awesome, actually. We won the tournament. I’ll have to say no to museums though cause we see enough of those on the job.”

“Dean…”

“--Sam might be able to look up some stuff on his computer. I think there’s—“

“Dancing. We could go dancing.” Cas says, a bit loud. He looks up at Dean through his lashes, his hands fiddling inside the pockets of his trench coat. Since when do angels fidget?

“Danc-“ Dean stops talking and feels the color drain from his face. Well, shit. Of course. How could he even forget the damn uncomfortable conversation they had about this very subject just a few hours ago.

Dean is definitely _not_ a dancer. He enjoys Swayze movies just like any red blooded American because the dude was awesome and a badass. But that was Swayze. Dean is a random hunter with bow legs who was taught to be methodical in everything. There was no time for feelings, for self-expression, for hippie art or poetry, and there was definitely no time for dancing. It just wasn’t his life. It wasn’t him.

“Haha, you mean like pole dancing? You saucy little minx.” Dean jokes.

“No, I don’t mean erotic dancing.” Cas rolls his eyes. “I mean like I did with the bartender. I had never experienced that before. It was…fun.” Cas smiles just a little.

“Yeah, man, sure.”

“We can dance right here.” Cas says.

“Uh, I’m good but you go on ahead. I can wait for you at the bar, unless you just want to zap me and Sammy home first.”

“I don’t want to dance alone.” Cas exasperates, like Dean is thicker than a brick.

“Uh…” Dean is a little confused now.

“You asked me what I wanted to do and this is it. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Let me take you and Sam home.”

The sudden realization that Cas wants to dance with _him_ has Dean feeling a bit nauseated and cold. His palms are already turning clammy and his mouth is watering from the bile that is crawling its way up his throat.

“Cas…” Dean takes a deep, steadying breath. “I can’t dance. And, uh, we’re both guys. Well, I’m a guy. You’re an angel…guy. You need a girl to dance with properly.” Cas’ face slowly takes on a dejected, but unsurprised look. “But hey! We can just go back in and you can dance with practically any chick in there.” Dean tries to smile encouragingly. He wants an out but he also feels a disturbing poke at the back of his mind when he imagines yet another girl wrapped around Cas’ arms. He doesn’t dwell on it. “What do you say?” He tries for another smile.

Cas doesn’t say anything and continues to look like a hundred kittens had just been murdered. Dean wonders if he’s doing this on purpose.

Dean loses it. “Goddamn it, Cas. Quit being so damn ridiculous. We’re all fine.  The world ain’t ending. This isn’t the first time I almost died and it certainly won’t be the last! I don’t know what’s going on with you but get over it, man!” Dean cringes at Cas’ stricken expression. Dean doesn’t mean it but he is at the end of his rope and has no idea at how else to deal with this situation.

Dean knows that if Cas wasn’t their only way back to the bunker, he would have flown away by now. Instead, Cas turns his back on Dean and walks to the end of the alley. He stands there looking at nothing and Dean doesn’t move from his spot. He feels a bit douchey. Here Cas was, risking his life for him, worrying about him, _caring_ about him, and Dean was being a selfish ass and yelling at him.

But he can’t dance with Cas. He still hasn’t even been able to set aside a time for himself to have a meltdown over his reaction to Cas’ dancing earlier. If he dances with him now, who knows what would happen. He might be forced to explore those feelings that he has always pushed down. It’s not that Dean gives a shit about dudes being into dudes. The world was so fucked up that where a guy stuck his dick was completely irrelevant in the face of everything. Well, maybe he cares a _little_ about the dude thing, but it’s the _love_ part that makes Dean really uncomfortable. It had taken him years to admit his feelings for Lisa and even after he had told her, he was still terrified of it all and had regretted it since. “Damn…” Dean breathes out. He has just done exactly what he has been trying not to do for years. He let his feelings take too much time in his head. His feelings involving Cas. Dean quickly tries to rebuild his Superman-type mental brick wall because, just, no.

They stand there for several minutes. Cas staring out and Dean clenching his fist, trying to bury the surge of emotions. Dean’s head starts to throb and his stomach twists because he knows that he went down the rabbit hole for too long. He knows in his gut that he won’t be able to completely block out everything like before and it terrifies him.

“When I went to drop off Don at his home, he collapsed right in front of me. He began to wail. I saw in him a great pain. Past his poor judgment and evil actions, there was so much pain. I have lost so many brothers and sisters. I have lost human friends. It’s sad and unfortunate, but what Don felt, this raw human emotion of loss, it was different and profound. Love is a great burden. My time on earth has affected me and I am no longer as immune to humanity as I once was. You and Sam mean a lot to me. If I lost… I imagine that the pain would be like Don’s. That is a chilling thought.” Cas speaks low and soft. “It’s horrifying.”

“Cas.” Dean closes his eyes because he can’t stand looking at the hunched over frame of his best friend. Briefly, Dean ponders at how Cas has grown in the last few years. Cas is either becoming more human or he’s always had emotions but never let himself get to this point. Either way, Dean has to do something. His friend needs him and all Dean has done so far is demand the world from him. 

Dean only hopes his now decrepit mental wall will hold up against what he is about to do next.

Dean walks up to Cas but his throat feels too tight and he can’t speak. After a beat, Cas turns and tilts his head at Dean in confusion. Dean lifts his hand out. The angel’s eyes widen and he stares at Dean for a long time. Dean smiles just a bit and moves his fingers slightly. Cas takes it.

\---

They hold hands awkwardly for a moment and just stare at each other.  _Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Jesus. What am I doing?_ Dean’s heartbeat feels almost painful against his chest and the roaring tide of blood rushing to his ears feels like he’s drowning.  He is trying his best to not snatch his hand back and high tail it out of there. It’s very tempting. Instead, he zeros in on the way Cas’ other hand is moving toward Dean.  Okay, he can do this. He can make a complete ass out of himself for his best friend. Whatever it is that Cas is going through, Dean can at least try to make it better, even if it goes against every macho hunter bone in his body. _I mean, dancing? Really?_

Cas curls his hand lightly around Dean’s waist and even though Dean knew it was coming, he gives an involuntary jerk at the touch. He looks back up at Cas who is staring at him with wonder, but the misery in his eyes seems to have diminished. Dean thinks that alone is worth the intense heat on his face and the whirl of sea sickness in his stomach. He can do this. _God, if Sammy sees this, I’ll have to kill him. I’ll finally have to kill my brother. No other way around it._

“So, uh, how do we do this? I’ve never done this before...” he shifts a little and flexes his other hand. “Don’t we, uh, need music?”

Cas momentarily lets go of Dean’s waist and gently guides Dean’s unoccupied hand up to rest on his shoulder. “Here.” Dean feels the warmth of Cas’ body under his palm and he thinks about how he wants to smooth away the wrinkles on his trench coat.  The thought makes Dean close his eyes briefly and breathe out because he can’t be having those kinds of thoughts. Cas doesn’t move and just stares into Dean’s eyes, happy as a clam.

“Um, so what next? We need music, don’t we?” He asks again. Maybe he can still get out of this.

“Yes. What music would you like?”

Dean lifts a skeptical eyebrow. “You have a music player in that coat of yours?”

Cas’ lips tug up in a small smile. “Something like that.”

“No shit?” Dean shouldn’t be too surprised. Cas has a habit of carrying random crap around (Dean still has that bag of honey Cas ‘harvested himself’) and he could have easily gotten Sam’s iPod or something. “Well…uh, Led Zeppelin isn’t really music you can dance to…not like this anyway.”   
  
He needs to pick something soon because they are still standing there with their hands intertwined and Cas’ light grip on Dean’s waist and Dean’s hand on the angel’s shoulder and it’s all making him jittery. He wracks his brain for something that might ease his erratic pulse. He can’t do sappy or anything romantic, especially not now, with Cas holding him and looking at him like a devoted monk at an altar.    
  
He chuckles then. “How about that song with the dancing monks from the Next Karate Kid? Y’know, the movie we watched a few months ago? Do you have that one?” It wasn’t as good as the first movie but Dean and Sam enjoyed it as kids and they still laughed at that part with the cheesy dance routine. It would definitely lighten up the mood and not make this so damn…intimate.

“I remember that song.” Cas replies. He tightens his hands slightly and suddenly the song starts playing, all around them but from nowhere. Dean jumps back out of Cas’ hands in shock.

“What the hell was that?!” He looks around them and the alley with wide, confused eyes. It was like he was listening to the song through ear buds but it sounded like it was everywhere at the same time. “Did you do that?!”

“Yes. I transmitted the song to you.” Cas doesn’t move from his spot, but looks at Dean with a bit of amusement. “It’s like telepathy, similar to a tuning fork.”

“Holy shit. You’re a walking mp3 player. Duuude. That is _awesome_. Can you play anything?” Dean grins with excitement at this new discovery. He could have Cas give him his own entrance music during hunts and then victory music after a job was complete. He could listen to anything, anytime. He could have an actual soundtrack to his life. Woah.

“Not everything.” Cas says, a smile on his lips. “Only songs that I have heard.”

“Man, that’s awesome. Why didn’t you do this before?”

“I never had the occasion.”

Dean is still smiling as he looks at Cas. The angel stares back with a smile of his own. They gaze at each other for what Dean thinks is probably way too long. Dean blinks a few times and averts his eyes at the realization. They should probably get this dancing thing over with and that idea almost makes his stomach lurch. No, he can do this. He _can_ do this. It will be fun and silly. He takes a deep breath and steps back into Cas’ space, tentatively placing his hand on Cas’ shoulder again. Cas meets Dean’s right hand in the air and grips it gently. He slowly eases his other hand around Dean’s waist again. Dean glances up to see Cas still staring. “Ready?” Cas asks.

“I might have two left feet, but yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.” He isn’t ready at all.

“Just follow my lead.” Cas says softly.  The music starts playing in Dean’s head again. In time to the beat of the drum intro, Cas moves forward a step and Dean tries to follow but ends up stumbling back and he curses. “It’s okay, we’ll start again.” Cas goes back to their original position and moves forward again. This time it’s a little smoother. “Good. Just relax. Don’t think.” Cas smiles gently and they take a step to the side. “Don’t look at your feet.”  
  
_…oh my life is changing every day, in every possible way…_

Dean looks up and finds Cas’ eyes on him, a softness in them that almost makes Dean’s breath catch in his throat. Dean forces himself to focus on the top of Cas’ head.  They continue moving in a kind of square, Dean following Cas’ steps and Dean thinks it isn’t that hard after all. Their movements get smoother and he feels himself relaxing just a little bit. As long as he doesn’t look at Cas or think too much, he’ll make it.

Of course, that’s when he starts paying attention to the lyrics of the song and it takes all his effort not to groan aloud at his own stupidity.  He didn’t even think about what the song was about, just that it reminded him of a funny, awkward part in a silly 90s movie. As the song plays and they continue moving, the lyrics get worse and worse and an intense wave of embarrassment hits him.

Cas then gently pushes him away with the hand on his waist and Dean takes a few steps back before Cas pulls him toward him again with the hand still gripping his. Cas slides his free hand to the small of Dean’s back, pushing Dean closer to him than before. Dean stops breathing when Cas’ face is mere inches from his. His eyes involuntarily flick to the angel’s soft, smiling lips. Cas rocks them side to side and then twists his hand for Dean do a somewhat clumsy turn. This time when Cas pulls Dean toward him, he brings him close enough that their hips and chests are almost touching. Dean’s heart beats wildly against his ribs and he loses his rhythm for a moment. He should stop this, but somehow he can’t do anything but follow Cas.

_…And now I tell you openly, you have my heart so don't hurt me…you're what I couldn't find..._

Cas begins to waltz again, keeping Dean close. Dean stares at his feet and tries to exhale long and low but it comes out shaky and short. Dean knows that he is beet red now. Cas suddenly turns him once more and when he catches him, they bend to the side slightly. Cas slides his hand to Dean’s back again and pulls him so close that Dean can feel the jut of Cas’ hip on his own and the heat of Cas’ hard chest against his. His breathing becomes more erratic and he slowly feels himself unraveling. Cas sways them and when he moves his leg forward, it momentarily comes in between Dean’s legs. Dean closes his eyes and starts to think of that one case down in Alabama with the ghosts turning people’s faces inside out, of the dudes from Duck Dynasty doing a strip tease,

_…'Cause you're a dream to me…_

 of Cas’ warm, hard hips moving against his own, of Cas’ gentle hand sliding just a bit lower down his back, of Cas’ eyes burning into Dean’s face, of Cas’ pink, plush lips, his tongue slipping out to wet them. 

Dean snaps his eyes open and nearly trips, but Cas holds him steady and they keep moving. Dean needs to stop thinking. He dares to look at Cas again and he inhales sharply. His heart feels like it’s about to burst. Cas is basked in the warm glow of the lamp above them, the contours of his face flattered by the soft shadows, and his blue eyes are gazing at the hunter with something like deep fondness and amazement. Dean distantly registers that the singer is starting to chant, but really all he can hear is the intense, hot pulse that seems to be radiating from his whole body and all he can see is Cas’ beautiful face getting closer. Dean isn’t thinking anymore, instead he lets his body guide him toward the angel and as the song fades, his heart explodes out of his chest and he’s floating.   
  
Cas’ lips are softer and so much sweeter than Dean could have imagined. His warm, gentle breath filling Dean’s mouth when his lips part slightly. They press their mouths against each other for an unknown amount of time, enjoying the newness and warmth of it all.  Cas then lets the tip of his tongue sweep tentatively against Dean’s bottom lip and Dean reciprocates with a gentle brush of his own around Cas’ lips. He slowly pushes into Cas’ mouth and caresses his timid tongue once, a tingly feeling rushing down his spine at the soft wetness. Cas unfurls the hand still holding Dean’s and lowers it to place it around Dean’s waist, framing him on both sides.  Cas squeezes lightly and Dean hums contently against his mouth, welcoming Cas’ warmth against the chilly late night air. He begins to move his tongue tenderly against Cas’ again, delicious sparks shooting through him at the touch.  
  
Suddenly, he feels his chest vibrating and his mind is momentarily confused by the odd sensation until the high pitched crooning of Axl Rose breaks through Dean’s concentration on the wonders of Cas’ mouth. Dean jumps away with a jolt from Cas’ lips and curses.

The hunter and angel stare at each other with Dean’s phone still ringing and shaking in his inner jacket pocket. Cas’ lips are slightly swollen and glistening and his eyes are lit up with joy. Did they really just do that? He’s sure he must be unconscious. Maybe Don managed to knock him out or even kill him.

But no, the phone stops ringing and a moment later, the chirp of a voicemail echoes through the silence between them. It happened.

Dean’s heart is thumping so hard against his ribs, he wonders if he’ll have a heart attack soon. He flexes his left arm just in case.

“Dean.” Cas murmurs softly, his eyes still shining brightly. He steps closer to Dean and the hunter’s feet feel like lead. He wants to move and flee and never look back, but part of him is still trying to process everything. And another part of him feels like he’s still floating, a deep sense of calm and warmth permeating his bones.

“Cas.” He manages to squeak out. He can’t say anything else as the emotions violently pulling and pushing at him threaten to suffocate him. His eyes dart to Cas’ hands then, seeing them inch closer to Dean’s waist again. He yearns for his touch again, his body beginning to tremble in anticipation. Of course, that’s when a group of loud drunk people burst through the doors and amble out of the alley, laughing and shouting as they go. Cas hesitates for a second but it is enough for Dean to snap back to himself. He takes a step back and digs into his jacket, finally tearing his eyes away from the angel to see that Sam called. He pushes the speed dial button, making sure not to look at Cas, and waits for Sam to pick up.

“Sammy, hey.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, we just finished here. We’ll head back inside soon. Yeah. Okay, yeah.” He hangs up and slides his phone back inside his jacket. He can see Cas moving toward him from the corner of his eye and he takes a step back, making Cas freeze. “Sam is waiting. We should go back.”

He turns toward the door and pretends he doesn’t see the deep hurt in Cas’ eyes as he walks away.


	4. Trouble in Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of emotional stuff in this one. 
> 
> This chapter went in a completely different direction than I intended and now I understand what people mean when they say something took on a life of its own. I'm sorry. Might end up trashing and re-writing the whole thing, if I have time. Critique always appreciated.
> 
> Nevertheless, thank you for reading!

Sam is sitting in one of the stools at the bar, flipping through his phone and sipping on a beer, when Dean drops down heavily in the seat next to him and orders a beer for himself.

“Dean.” Sam turns to look at him and his eyebrows immediately twist up with anxiety at Dean’s expression. “Hey, what’s wrong? Where’s Cas?”

“Beats me.” Dean replies gruffly. He chugs his entire beer as soon as it’s placed in front of him and orders another.

“Dean, what happened? What did you do?” Sam puts his phone down and turns his body to face Dean head on.

 

“Why the hell did _I_ have to something? And nothing happened.” He frowns and starts picking at the label of his second beer bottle.

 

Sam worries his bottom lip and looks like he’s about to say something but changes his mind. Instead he asks, “Did you talk to Cas about what was bugging him?”

 

“Yeah.” Dean doesn’t elaborate.

 

“And? What did he say?” Sam says, a little annoyed.

 

“He was _worried_ about me, or whatever.” Dean lets out a short, rough laugh. “Just having his period, I guess.”

 

There’s a pause and Sam sighs. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” Dean’s frown deepens and he glares at his younger brother. “Yeah, you really are, Dean.”

 

Dean doesn’t say anything and decides the little piles of paper he is making from the beer label are very interesting.

 

“Cas does so much for you, for us. He’s sacrificed everything because he believed in you. He cares about you, man. Why can’t you just accept that maybe you matter to someone?  Granted both of you are emotionally constipated, but I don’t blame Cas because he’s not human and he’s still learning. But you, you should know better. Cas is family and you can’t just abandon him.”

 

Dean snaps his head up to look at Sam. “I didn’t abandon him.” He grits out angrily. He’d never abandon Cas. He’s pissed that Sam would even think that.

 

“Yeah? Well, then where is he?” Sam looks around before turning back to Dean. “Something obviously happened between you two, or you wouldn’t be here looking like a brooding teenager moping around after a fight with his girlfriend.” Dean pushes away from his stool and gets up, intent on ending the conversation. “Dean” Sam says softly.

 

“We should get back to the motel room. I’m beat.” Dean says, forcing himself to sound casual, though anger and guilt boil just under his skin.  He doesn’t even know what he is angry at, really. Himself for doing what he just did with the angel, or Cas for being so oblivious to how much he affects Dean. He knows the latter is just him being ridiculous since he doesn’t _want_ Cas to know how he feels. Damn it, there he goes again, thinking about feelings.

 

“Alright” says Sam after a while.  Dean knows Sam won’t let up and he’ll eventually poke and harass him enough to force him to talk, but right now, he can’t deal with it. “Where’s Cas? I’ll get him.”

 

“Back alley.” Dean replies, finishing the last few pulls of his beer. “I’ll be out front.” He walks out and tries to let the buzzed feeling settle over him.

 

\---

 

The wind has a sharp bite to it now that the moon has chased away the warmth. The autumn breeze seems to be welcoming winter earlier. Dean zips his jacket up to his neck while he waits, leaning against a building near their rendezvous point across the street from the club. Everything is quiet, deserted, and it leaves him alone with his thoughts, which is the last thing he wants. He was hoping the buzz would have been enough to keep him distracted but instead a picture perfect still image of Cas’ miserable expression nestles itself behind his eyes. He rubs at them with his palms but all that does is make him realize his face is slightly damp from tears. That’s it – Dean is turning into a girl. He knows it. It explains everything from the moment he agreed to dance with Cas. Oh god.

 

He closes his eyes. Every stupid second from tonight is crystal clear in his mind, driving him insane. His blood pumps rapidly through him and he slams his fist against the brick wall in frustration.  No time better than now to have his meltdown. He huffs a bitter, short laugh.

 

He hates himself for letting everything change. Why tonight, of all nights, but more importantly, why ever? He had been good at keeping everything in check for years, just like everything else in his life. Thanks to dad, he is an expert at compartmentalizing, organizing, locking away the unwanted and mostly bad thoughts and memories. And most of the time, it works. Because it has to work. It is the only way he can get himself out of bed some mornings.

 

Cas is the exception to the rule. He isn’t a bad thought or memory. He is a warm, fluttering, saccharine thought that caresses Dean’s psyche like a soothing lullaby. Nevertheless, it doesn’t belong anywhere in Dean’s consciousness. It’s not like he can just _forget_ what he feels, but he was at least able to shove the _thoughts_ away before. His life as a hunter has taught him that he shouldn’t allow himself to get near anybody that wasn’t family. His experience with Lisa only cemented that.  The only thing that matters is the family business.

 

But now, Dean has ruined all of that carefully structured order to his life. He kissed Cas. How can they go back from that?  And he put that raw, torn look on his face that Dean can’t stop hating himself for.

 

Does this mean that Cas has feelings for him? Or was he just being his nerdy angel self and incorrectly thought kissing another guy was part of being human? Or maybe he just didn’t think much of it all? It’s not like Cas hasn’t kissed anyone before, thanks to Meg. Cas wasn’t even a virgin anymore thanks to that red-headed reaper April. The idea shouldn’t hurt so much, especially since Dean is, he’ll admit, by most definitions, a slut and has slept with dozens of women. Yet it doesn’t make the possibility that Cas had kissed him without it meaning anything to him any less painful.

 

And that doesn’t explain why Cas looked so miserable when Dean left him in the alley. Maybe he did feel something for Dean. Dean’s heart leaps hopefully, but he quickly smothers it down because so what if Cas felt something for him? It wouldn’t change anything. Dean is still an asshole and a hunter; his life is measured in salt rounds, beer, and highways.  He isn’t made to be in relationships or have any domesticity to his life. The best sense of home he has and will ever have is the Impala and the bunker. There is no happy ending. And he doesn’t deserve one.

 

Dean lets all these meandering, frustrating, unwanted thoughts roll through him and he is lost in his own misery when he hears a susurrus of voices. He looks up. He frowns at the empty street and pricks up his ears to listen better. Another wave of whispers rustle through like leaves, though he can’t pinpoint its origin. He shoves off the wall and his right hand goes to his lower back, fingers brushing over his gun, ready.

 

He stays alert and reaches for his phone to call Sam. His finger is on the speed dial when he hears a very familiar voice call his name sweetly.

 

“Deeeean.” It singsongs.

 

Dean drops the phone and it clatters on the pavement.

 

“No.” he breathes out. He closes his eyes tightly and starts counting to ten softly. A coping mechanism he had seen Sam use and often made fun of him for. Dean hears footsteps and then a shuffle, like someone stopped walking abruptly.

 

“That won’t help, Dean.” says the voice sadly, now close. Dean counts louder. “Dean, don’t be like that. I just want to talk, that’s all. I’m not mad at you for helping Sam put me in the cage, though I have to say I do feel a little…hurt.”

 

“FIVE…SIX…” Dean all but yells. There is silence and he continues counting. When he is done, he takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. He immediately pushes himself back into the wall with a gasp.

 

“Hi Dean.” says Lucifer with smile full of pity. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”

 

The angel possessing Nick stands before Dean with his head bowed a little and his hands up in a placating gesture, as if trying to calm a wild animal. Dean’s nails scratch against the brick wall, searching for some kind of assurance that he is dreaming. When his fingers start to bleed and sting, a chill grips his lungs tight.

 

“You’re not dreaming, Dean.” says another familiar voice and suddenly Sam steps out in front of him.

 

“Sam! What…what are you doing?! Get away from him! It’s Lucifer!” Dean shouts, not understanding how Sam apparently doesn’t see Satan standing right next to him, probably waiting to make him his angel condom.

 

“I know, Dean. I let him out.” Sam says. He raises his hands up to the sky. “Tonight was the only night to do it. Don was merely a distraction.”

 

“You?! What?!” Dean breathes harshly and darts his eyes between the two men. “This can’t be happening.”

 

“It is happening, Dean. I’m going to say yes. I’m going to put everything right again. We should have never stopped the apocalypse. It was meant to be.” Sam says with a peaceful look on his face. “You and me, we’re the vessels, Dean.  We have to follow destiny.” Sam inches closer to Lucifer, who is looking fondly at him.

 

“Sammy, no! What are you saying?! You can’t!” Dean scrambles forward to grab at Sam but his brother is already starting to glow brightly. “Sam! Sam!” He falls to his knees with a sob, hopelessly watching his brother get possessed by the devil in a blinding light.

 

\---

 

“Dean?”

 

Dean blinks a few times and he’s standing in front of Cas, his hand on the angel’s shoulder and the other gripping his hand. He blinks again. They’re outside.

 

“Dean, are you alright?” Cas asks, frowning and tilting his head.

 

“Cas?” Dean drops his arms and takes a step back. “What…what happened?” How did they end up back behind the club?

 

“What do you mean?” Cas’ frown gets deeper, worry etched in his eyes. “We were dancing and then you suddenly went still and your eyes went blank. You were catatonic for about a minute.” Cas places a hand on Dean’s forehead. “Your systems are all running normal, but your body is very tired. It seems you were experiencing some sort of waking nightmare.”

 

“Huh? Dancing? But that was almost an hour ago, Cas.” Dean looks around and everything is the same.

 

“Dean, what are you talking about?” Cas brows knit together with concern. “Are you feeling okay?”

 

“Yeah, I feel fine. I must have…dozed off or something.” Dean rubs his forehead, trying to wipe away his memories of the nightmares. He can have a nervous breakdown about them later. “We should probably get back to the motel soon.”

 

“Yes, I agree.” Cas says. “This isn’t normal. We need to get you checked out.”   
  
“I’m fine, Cas. It was just…weird.”

 

“What did you see?” Cas asks, still looking uneasy. Dean thinks he must have really been out of it.

 

“Nothing pleasant.” He looks away. Dean doesn’t want to make Cas anymore worried. It’s over and that’s all that matters. “I think it was just a bad dream. Sleep deprivation will do that to a guy. I’m freakin’ exhausted.”  


Cas puts up two fingers to his forehead and Dean feels a little less tired. “That should help you until we get back to the motel.”

 

“Thanks.”

  
“You’re welcome. Dean.” Cas stands there and hesitates.

 

“Cas?”

 

“What did you think of dancing now that you have done it?” Cas asks, gazing at Dean.

 

“Oh.” Dean blinks. “Yeah. Um, I guess it’s not the worst thing in the world.”

 

“I enjoyed it. Thank you.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.” Dean feels awkward because the freak out he thought he had earlier was apparently just a dream. Yet, he’s already so emotionally spent, he can’t really muster up the energy to even feel embarrassed right now.

 

“Dean?” Cas asks slowly.

 

“Hmm?” Dean is looking around the alley, trying to get his bearings again. God, that was some trippy shit that just happened.

 

“Actually, we need to talk.” Cas says, a bit more seriously.

 

Dean looks up at that and twists his eyebrows up questioningly. Cas seems a little worn down, he notices for the first time. “About?”

 

“There was something that needed to be done today.” Cas says, his eyes getting a faraway look to them, worry and a touch of guilt coloring his features. “I know I shouldn’t have done it but it was necessary to save you… There is a huge threat among us and I couldn’t just stand by.”

 

“What are you on about? Threat? From what?” Dean feels his pulse quickening. Cas making big choices by himself has always ended up in disaster. Kind of like Dean making big choices by himself.

 

“When you asked me what was wrong earlier, after I dropped off Don…” Cas sighs.

 

“Cas, you’re scaring me. What did you do?”

 

“When I took Don home, I revisited the lab…” Cas’ lips quirk up into a smile briefly, which is perplexing.

 

“The lab? What lab?”

 

Cas’ body twitches suddenly and he scowls. “The lab where we-“ He stops and shudders.

 

“Uh, Cas?”

 

“Dean.” Cas looks around frantically. “Dean, I think I…”

 

“Cas, what’s going on with you? You look sick.” Dean places a hand on his arm.

 

“I think I messed up…again, Dean.” Cas suddenly folds over and clutches at his stomach. “I went back to the lab…”

 

“Cas! What lab? What’s wrong?” Dean scans Cas for injuries and grabs at his shoulders.   


Strangely, Cas give a small laugh,“Oh, you know, Dean,” Cas’ voice takes on a higher pitch and he looks up, a full on smile on his face. “That nice little hidey hole of Crowley’s, back in Kansas.”

 

Dean drops his hands from Cas’ shoulders and gapes at him. There is a hard pounding in his head and he can’t think. The lab where Cas…

 

“Do you remember now, Dean?” Cas continues smiling. He unfolds himself and straightens up again. When he tilts his head to the side a little, Dean stops breathing altogether.

 

A fine web of black-red veins is creeping up from the base of Cas’ neck.

 

“Cas.” He chokes out, his eyes glued to the tendrils spreading out to the angel’s face. Dean’s heart breaks as it dawns on him what Cas did. “You stupid son of a bitch…why…” he whispers.

 

“I just got so tired, Dean.” Cas grins. “Tired of being your lackey, your chauffeur, your bitch. Soon I knew I’d probably end up being your fuckbuddy too.” He nods. “Oh yes, I know exactly what you try to suppress in the dark recesses of that little screwed-up head of yours. I know you want me in a way you can’t bring yourself to think about. I guess it’s true that Winchesters are cowards.”

 

“No, Cas. No!” Dean growls, grabbing the Leviathan-possessed Cas by the lapels of his coat and shoving him toward the wall. “You get the hell out him, you bastards!” Dean is not about to let the Leviathan use him again. No, not after all they have gone through. Dean just doesn’t understand why Cas would do this. He thought he’d learn his lesson, after all the horrible things he did while playing God.  They had fought so hard trying to get rid of the ancient beasts. He and Cas had been blown to Purgatory in order to save the world.  Now, Cas has gone back and gotten them out again. 

 

Dean struggles to breathe as he pushes Cas tight against the wall. Cas merely smiles at him. Dean reaches into his pocket and calls Sam, keeping his eyes on the angel while the phone rings. “Sam! Get out here! Behind the club! Now!”

 

“What can you and your brother do, Dean?” The Leviathan laugh in Cas’ voice. “We are stronger than ever. We have waited a long time to come back. We whispered to the angel, slowly, softly…We beckoned him to us and he came because the truth is we never really left. A part of us remained inside and he couldn’t resist us. We will always be a part of him, and when he dies, which will be very soon, he will become one of us.” They tilt Cas’ head in mock sadness. “He can’t be saved.”

 

“I’ll find a way.” Dean grits out. “There’s always a way. Cas, you hear me in there? I won’t leave you so you wait for me, you goddamn stupid angel!”

 

The Leviathan chuckle, “You’re too late, Dean. We can feel your little angel struggling against us as we speak but ultimately, he will fail. He’s too weak.” The Leviathan easily push Dean away and smile. “Yes, just a few more seconds.”

 

Suddenly, there is an angel blade in Cas’ hand. He looks at Dean, grief-stricken, and Dean knows it’s him. His Cas. “I’m sorry, Dean.” He whispers, full of regret and sorrow.

 

Cas plunges the blade into his own chest and his body flares with a blinding light.

 

“NO!” Dean rushes forward, catching Cas as he falls. Sam bursts through the backdoor and runs to Dean who is on his knees now, holding the angel tightly against him.

 

“Dean! Oh my god! Cas!” Sam stares at the burned out pattern of wings splayed on the wall.“Shit! No!” He steps closer, a swirl of sorrow on his forehead. “Cas…”

  
Dean’s quiet, broken sobs wrack his whole body.   
  
Sam lets out a harsh breath and places a hand on his shoulder. They stay like that for minutes or hours or days, Dean holding the angel and Sam staring down sadly, his hand squeezing his brother’s shoulder.

 

Dean doesn’t notice there’s movement until he feels a hand on his chest. He looks down and through his tears, he sees Cas smiling up at him. “Cas?!”

 

“You can let get now. Your dear grumpy little angel is gone. Long, looong gone.” Cas singsongs.

 

Dean freezes, his anguish threatening to engulf him all over again. “No, no, no! Please! Please! Bring him back!”

 

Cas wriggles out of Dean’s arms and sits up, smilingly sardonically. “Oh, Dean. Dean, Dean.”

 

“Please.” Dean closes his eyes. He feels like vomiting and his chest constricts painfully.

 

“Poor Dean.” Cas’ voice gets louder. “Poor poor Dean!”

 

“I need you…Please, Cas…”

 

“Poor-“

 

\---

 

“DEAN!”

 

The grip on his shoulder tightens and he feels himself being shaken. “Please, Cas. Please.” Fresh tears stream down his cheeks.

 

“Dean, I’m here.”

 

“Cas…” Dean whimpers. “Please…”

 

“Open your eyes, Dean.” He hears Cas say gently.

 

“No…No, Cas.”

 

“Dean, please, open your eyes. Whatever it is you saw, it wasn’t real. Open your eyes.” Dean hears a shuffling noise and the faraway ringing of a phone that’s quickly answered. “Sam? Did you burn it? No, he’s still coming out of it. Yes, I’ll take him back.” There’s a click and more shuffling. “Dean? Open your eyes now. It’s gone. You’re safe.”

 

Dean’s tears are still pouring out freely and he doesn’t want to see. He doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to watch his worst nightmares coming true. He whimpers again.

 

“Dean. Come on, you have to open your eyes. Please, trust me.” Dean feels the hand on his shoulder move to his waist and grip him tenderly. Dean lets out a sigh despite himself, relaxing just a little at the warm, soothing touch. “It’s me. I’m here. Please, open your eyes.”

 

 Dean shakes his head and keeps his eyes closed.

 

“It’s me. Castiel.” Dean feels light fingers wipe away his tears. “I’m your friend. We have fought together for many years - you, me, and Sam. We have saved the world countless times. Dean.” Cas says, softly sweeping his left thumb across Dean’s cheekbone.

 

Dean feels himself calming down and thinking maybe... maybe this time, Cas, the real Cas, his Cas, is really here with him. “Cas…” he sighs out.

 

“Yes, it’s me. Open your eyes now. We need to get you home.” He can feel Cas move closer to him and Dean wraps his arms around the angel’s torso without thinking, yearning for his warmth; his exhaustion blocking out all rational thought. He sighs again.

 

“Cas…you smell good, like the forest.” Dean drawls against Cas’ shoulder. He feels Cas’ hand slide against his back, pulling him tighter. “I don’t know if I want this to be a dream or not now.” Cas places a tender kiss on his forehead.

 

The sweet sensation forces Dean to open his eyes. He tilts his head up and Cas is there, alive, and worry contorting his features.  “Cas…” he whispers, elation overtaking him. Maybe it really was Cas.

 

“I’m here, Dean.” Cas whispers back, his face relaxing. They stare into each other’s eyes and Dean doesn’t try to look away. He needs to know that this is real. He hopes and _prays_ that this is real.

 

Eventually, Cas shifts his body and grips Dean by the shoulders. “Are you okay?”

 

Dean nods absent-mindedly.

 

Cas shakes him a little. “No, Dean, focus now. Are you okay?” Dean blinks. His hunter instincts are starting to kick in and he’s becoming more alert of his surroundings.

 

It’s night and he’s outside. There are buildings everywhere and his back is against a wall. His feet ache and he notices he’s standing. Across the street, he sees a few people in costumes stumbling out of the club and tripping over themselves as they get into a taxi. He knows where he is now. “What happened, Cas? You…and Sam…you were…the apocalypse…the Leviathan…” He looks at Cas again, searching his face for any indication that he might be possessed or that Dean might be dreaming and that the terrible truth is still out there.

 

“Whatever you experienced, it wasn’t real, Dean. You had a powerful hex bag stitched into your clothing. It made you have visions; a distorted, false image that overpowered your mind, tricking you into believing what you saw was reality.” Cas’ eyes harden. “Don must have put it on you when he knocked you out.”

 

“Hex bag? But why didn’t it affect me right away, when he first captured me?” Dean asks, confused, still coming out of his stupor.

 

“It must have been triggered by something. Don was a very experienced witch, I’m afraid.” Cas says grimly. “I’m sorry, Dean. I should have been able to easily detect the hex bag. I was too caught up in myself and I didn’t realize you were in danger.” His eyes droop and his lips press together tightly. “I should have protected you. I’m sorry.”

 

Dean frowns. “It wasn’t your fault. I should be the one to apologize. Maybe if I hadn’t been such a jerk earlier... I’m sorry, Cas, for leaving you back there.” He has already cried in front of Cas and he is still clinging to him, so Dean figures he might as well just keep the girly feely thing going and make Sam proud.

 

“Let’s head back.” says the angel. “You need to rest.”

 

Dean blinks and they are standing in the motel parking lot. Dean eases his hands off of Cas and the instant he lets go, everything comes crashing down.

 

Dean quickly backs away from Cas and starts heaving.

 

“Dean?” Cas doesn’t move, his eyebrows scrunching together with concern.

 

“Don’t.” Dean breathes out. “I can’t. Don’t.”  

 

Cas disappears and an instant later, the door to their hotel room bursts open. Sam sprints out to the parking lot with Cas behind him. “Dean! What’s wrong?” Sam approaches Dean and places a hand on his arm.

 

“Sam…” Dean forces himself to take a breath, his vision starting to get blurry. Thank god, Sam isn’t possessed. As far as Dean knows, at least. Does he know? Is this even real? He begins to hyperventilate.

 

“Shit. Cas, I thought you said the spell had worn off.” Sam keeps his hand on Dean’s arm.

 

“The spell has been broken, but there may be residual psychological effects.” Cas says unsure, his voice tinted with worry. “We need to get him inside. Now.”

 

Dean concentrates on breathing, letting himself get pulled along into their room and onto a bed.

 

“Can you sit up?” Sam asks, bringing a glass of water to Dean’s lips. Dean tries to move but is paralyzed. What if he is dreaming about dreaming? What if Sam is out there right now walking around as Lucifer’s meatsuit? What if Cas is dead? “Cas, what do we do?” Sam looks to the angel.  

 

“He needs to rest. His mind needs to catch up to reality.”

 

Sam pushes Dean further into the bed and removes his boots.  Cas goes to the other side to slide the covers out from underneath Dean and he pulls them over the hunter’s body.

 

“Can you help him?” Sam asks.

 

“Not at this stage, no, and not with my powers. He needs to find something to ground him, something that keeps him mentally and emotionally tied to reality.” Cas exhales slowly. “But I can help him sleep.”

 

A warm hand strokes his hair and Dean begins to slip into nothingness. Just before he loses consciousness, Dean does what he hasn’t done in years - he prays, he sincerely prays.


	5. Take My Breath Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter where everything got away from me. (I promise I'll make up for it in the near future.) Critique appreciated.

There is a soft caress against his cheek and he smiles into it. He’s warm and comfortable, a soft bed underneath and a strong arm wrapped around his waist. He takes in the scent of pine and evergreen that suffuses the air like Christmas.

“Dean.”

“Cas…” Dean murmurs contently. Cas pulls him closer and Dean sighs against his warm chest. This is definitely one of his better dreams.

“You’re not dreaming.” Cas says soothingly, his hand smoothing Dean’s forehead.

“’Course I am.” Dean mumbles. He is so tired after last night and he just wants to enjoy this. Sam and Cas were... Dean bolts upright and opens his eyes. Cas is lying next to him, a soft smile on his lips. Before Dean can let that distract him, he quickly looks around. They are back in the motel room, just how they left it. There was no way this wasn’t a dream, yet it didn’t feel like a dream. He scrambles out of the bed. “Cas, what are you doing here?” He asks with a tremor in his voice.

“We came here after you were overtaken by a spell. You were screaming my name when I found you.” Cas replies, not moving from the bed.

“Where is Sam?! Is he alright?!” Dean remembers now.

“Yes, Lucifer promised he would take good care of him.” Cas smiles wide, an expression that looks odd on his face.

“WHAT?!” Dean screams. “Cas, please tell me you’re joking and if you are, that’s a _really_ bad joke, man.”

“Why would I joke about this, Dean? Sam is fulfilling his destiny. It will restore the balance and there will finally be paradise on Earth.”

Dean turns and looks for a weapon because this must be a shapeshifter messing with him.

“I’m not a shapeshifter, Dean.” Cas gets up out of the bed and walks up to Dean. “Sam and I had planned this a very long time ago. We knew it could never truly be stopped, that stopping it would only lead to more suffering and needless deaths. We knew we had to act without you knowing. Now, the time is here and Michael and Lucifer will finally have the fight they were destined for. You need to understand that this is for the best and that it is too late for you to stop it.”

“Cas, are you insane?! What the hell did we go through all this crap these past few years for?!” Dean thought he had finally gotten out of the fucked up dreamworld but now he doesn’t know what is going on anymore.

“Dean, it’s destiny. My Father commanded it and we were wrong to ever think we could change anything. We must follow His plan.” Cas responds solemnly.

“Cas, no. Please. Don’t do this. You can’t. I thought you cared about humans, about us. I thought you cared about...” Dean can’t help the tears running down his face. “Don’t do this.” He shuts his eyes and swipes a hand down his face to erase the tears.

Then everything fractures and turns black.

“Wake up, Dean.” A low voice calls.

Dean curls up into a ball and squeezes his eyes tighter. He wonders why this keeps happening, this terrible torture, and his heart breaks all over again.

“You were having a nightmare.” Cas says quietly. “You were sleeping. Dean.” Cas hesitates. “Do you remember last night? You were under the influence of a spell and you experienced things that weren’t real. I brought you here and helped you fall asleep. Dean. Whatever you just dreamed was the spell’s residual effect. It wasn’t real.”

“How do I know that, Cas? How do I know what is real? I don’t know, Cas. I don’t know.” Dean whispers hoarsely, a tear falling from his closed eyes.

Dean feels the bed dip and a palm on the top of his head, and he instinctively relaxes a little.

“Because you are strong, Dean, and your mind will tell you what is real. You know it even now.” Cas begins to stroke Dean’s hair very delicately, barely touching him and Dean feels the tension in his shoulders dissipate.

“But I don’t, man. I _don’t_ know.”

“Yes, you do. Think about something that is a deep part of your being, Dean. Something that no one can ever destroy, that is a constant.” Dean’s scrunched-up eyes go loose as Cas keeps caressing his hair softly. “Something that keeps you going.”

“There’s nothing, Cas. I don’t have anything.”

“You do. You have Sam. You have the memories of your parents, of Bobby, of your friends. You have your time with Lisa and Ben. You have all the people you have saved.”

Dean tries to think of all those things but they do little to lessen the panic in his heart. This could be another trick. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything at all.

“Dean.” The bed shifts and a heat radiates from somewhere close behind his back. “Just think.” Cas strokes down to Dean’s neck and curls his fingers there, grazing softly at the skin.  
  
"No, I don’t have anything. Everyone dies, everyone leaves. It’s always my fault. There’s no saving me.”

“You can be saved and I’ll never leave you.”

 Dean opens his eyes and turns his head to look at the angel and then he knows.

Cas’ face slackens with relief and he pulls his hand back from Dean’s neck. “Welcome back.”

Dean unfurls his legs and arms, twisting to lie on his back. He stares at nothing and they stay like that in silence for a few minutes. He’s a little embarrassed but more than anything, he’s exhausted.  
  
Eventually, Dean speaks. “Man, Cas, that…that sucked. What the hell happened?” Dean remembers some of what Cas said last night after he found him but he still needs to know that what he saw wasn’t real. At least he hopes it wasn’t real because he is still not entirely sure he’s awake or not hallucinating right now.

“After you left, Sam came to get me and we headed back. When we found you, you were in distress and you didn’t respond. I scanned you and found the hex bag sewn into the layers of your jacket so I flew Sam to the motel so that he could destroy it properly. I returned and you slowly regained consciousness.” Cas’s shoulders hunch a little. “It seems the spell is no longer on you, but the psychological effects have lingered. I should have found it much earlier, Dean. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, man. You saved my ass. That’s what counts.” Dean glances at the angel. “Where’s Sam?”

“He went to get breakfast and some supplies.”

“Supplies?” Dean struggles to prop himself up on his elbows, still fairly worn out from the last few hours, though it felt like days.

“Yes, you have undergone mental trauma and you need to rest until your mind heals, so you’ll be staying here for a few days, since I cannot guarantee that the long drive or even flying back won’t cause any further damage.”

“Mental trauma? Cas, my whole life is a mental trauma. I went to Hell _and_ Purgatory, I’ve killed a bunch of people that I hated and a bunch of people that I loved and somehow I’m not a drooling mess yet. So I’m pretty sure I can get over a stupid spell.”

“This is unlike anything you have experienced, Dean. Spellwork like this can invade the mind’s fragile perception of reality to a great extent even after the spell has worn off or has broken. It is similar to what Sam experienced after I…After he regained his memory of hell. In your case, however, the spell prevents me from taking on your visions because they aren’t formed just from memories, but your emotions, mainly your fears.”

“Lovely. So this spell broke my noodle and has a direct line to all the bad shit that goes on in there…” Dean feels like he’ll never catch a break.

Cas looks at him with pity and stands up to get a glass of water, bringing it back to Dean.

“Thanks.” Dean sits up with Cas’ help. He peeks up at Cas from over his glass as he drinks and the angel is gazing back. Dean finishes drinking and sets the glass down, his cheeks feeling warm all of a sudden. “So, what now?”

“You rest. Sam should be back within the hour. We’ll wait.” Cas settles on Sam’s bed and just stares at Dean, not moving.

“I can’t really rest when you’re being all creepy like that, Cas.” Dean mumbles. “How about some t.v.?”

Cas gets up and turns on the television. He flips through the channels and makes a disappointed sound. “I’m afraid there is nothing educational on at the moment, Dean. These Kardashian people seem to be completely deprived of basic human intelligence.”

“Dude, I don’t want educational, I just want to enjoy some mindless television. Here, gimme the remote.” Dean channel surfs until he lands on the first few minutes of Doctor Sexy M.D.: Open Heart Surgery of Love – the movie. “ _A _wesome__.” Dean settles back against the headboard. Cas stands beside the bed and watches the screen curiously. “Cas, sit down, kick back, man.”

Cas sits on the edge of Dean’s bed. That isn’t where Dean meant but he can deal with him sitting on the bed and he turns his attention back to the handsome Dr. Sexy valiantly performing chest compressions on dear old Ms. Rosie Button from the flower shop who was rushed to the hospital after collapsing. Soon they will find out that Ms. Button’s grandson tried to poison her and then the amazing, good-hearted Dr. Sexy will punch him in his stupid, evil face. Dean may or may not have seen this movie a few dozen times.

Dean is intently watching the movie when Cas gets up and goes around the other side of the bed. Dean hears a jingle of coins and looks over as Cas is putting a quarter into the Magic Fingers box. “Cas, what’re you doing?” Cas walks back over to his spot and stretches out to lie on the bed, next to Dean. The bed starts vibrating. _Jesus Christ. Not again_.

“This will help you relax, Dean.” Cas says, turning his head to look at the hunter.

"Okay, Cas?” Dean sits up straighter against the headboard. “You can’t just get in a dude’s bed. And you definitely can’t then turn on Magic Fingers. It’s not normal, man, and it’s, er, weird.” They might as well have this conversation now.

“I don’t mind.” Cas says simply, moving his head back onto the pillow.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, some other people might.”

“No one is here, so what does it matter?” Cas reaches up and fluffs the pillow under his head. “Unless you mind? Does it make you uncomfortable, Dean?” He asks, curious, like he’s interviewing a test subject in an experiment.

“Me? Nah. Just…y’know, wanted to let you know that it’s not what people normally do.” Dean cringes. He can’t tell him the truth because that would clue Cas in on the fact that Dean feels weird when they’re this close and he’ll figure out that Dean has feelings or _something_ for him. Okay, maybe that’s a huge leap considering it’s Cas and he doesn’t get anything but Dean doesn’t want to risk it. There’s also that little annoying part of Dean that is enjoying having Cas near him.

“Then there is no problem.” Cas closes his eyes.

Dean breathes out. He is about to turn back to the t.v. when Cas’ mouth parts slightly and Dean suddenly has tunnel vision. He takes in the perfect curve of his cupid’s bow and the plump lower lip. The angel’s lips always look chapped but Dean knows just how soft they are.

Dean swallows. He thought he had already gotten everything out of his system last. He searches out his mental wall for all Cas-related thoughts and finds dusty ruins. Horror nearly slams the air out of his chest. His mind flashes back to everything that has happened since last night, trying to separate the nightmarish illusions from reality. He had danced with Cas, he had kissed Cas, he had hugged Cas, he had even told Cas he smelled good. Yup – now it all makes sense. His wall is definitely obliterated.   
  
His panicking thoughts are violently derailed when he hears a soft groan. Dean’s eyes threaten to bug out of their sockets as he gawks at Cas. The angel exhales softly. All the blood in Dean’s body seems to making a bee line to his lower region.

“Mmm…” moans Cas, barely audible.

Holy fuck. Dean feels himself getting hard and the deep rumblings of the bed are not helping at all. That earlier panic starts to resurface and he can’t decide if he should make a run for the bathroom or hope that it’ll all go away. He briefly thinks that this would be the perfect time for this to actually be a dream. He’s so busy trying to quell the rising hysteria that when he looks back at Cas, he finds that the angel is looking at him. Not just at him though, but at the beginnings of an erection against his jeans, bulging slightly through the bed sheets.   
  
Dean doesn’t blink and doesn’t breathe.

Cas flicks his eyes up and then goes back to looking at Dean’s erection, with something like keen interest. “Do you need a hat?” He asks suddenly.

The bizarre question breaks through Dean’s internal chaos. “What?”

“The last time you experienced an erection, you placed a hat over it.” Cas says easily. His eyes seeming to turn darker as he keeps them trained on Dean’s crotch.

“Oh my god, Cas!” Dean’s face flushes a deep scarlet. “You don’t talk about another dude’s boner, man!” He turns his body away from the angel, lying on his side and breathing quick and fast. He would get up but he’d have to walk across the room to the bathroom which would mean displaying his very obvious bulge to Cas again, whose intent gaze only made it worse. Dean’s not all that certain he has the energy to walk anyway.

“I apologize, Dean. I didn’t think the subject offensive.” Cas sits up, the bed’s vibrations slowing down. He hums and goes silent.

“What?” asks Dean, trying to keep his voice level. He’s full-on panicking now and he focuses on forcing the tremble in his hands to stop.

“It seems I am experiencing a similar reaction.” Cas explains. Dean’s jaw drops and it takes all his strength to not turn his head and look.

“Dude. Don’t talk. Seriously. Just- just shuddup.” Dean takes quick gulps of air, hoping that it’ll help get rid of the mental image of Cas’ dick, erect and dripping. Maybe hot and hard because of Dean? No, no, no. Dean shakes his head slightly.

Cas remains quiet. A second later, Dean feels the angel’s weight leave the mattress. There’s a rustling noise and then Dean’s entire body tenses.

Cas is standing in front of him, facing the Magic Fingers coin machine. He reaches into his trench coat pocket, the movement making his coat flap away momentarily and there Dean catches a glimpse of the tented material of his crotch. Dean’s throat shrivels up and his temples throb with the wild beat of his heart.

Dean’s cock is pushing agonizingly at his jean’s zipper now and he almost whimpers at the pain. He sneaks up a glance at Cas’ face and inhales sharply because the angel is looking down at him. When the bed begins to vibrate again, instead of going back to lie down, Cas turns to face him and crouches down to be near eye-level with Dean.

“You seem troubled, Dean.” Cas says, his voice lower and eyes darker than usual. Troubled? How could Dean not be troubled when Cas is sporting an impressive tent in his pants and now crouching close to Dean’s face, his warm breath brushing against Dean’s cheek and his deep, heady scent, an intoxicating musk mixed with the fresh, pungent smell of the forest after the rain, wafting around Dean’s nose, making him dizzy with desire?

“I’m alright. I just need to be alone.” Dean manages to squeak out, looking down at his hands. “Go do angel things or something.”

“I’m not leaving you alone, Dean. You are still weakened and we don’t know if there are any remaining effects from the spell.” Cas doesn’t move from his position and he is silent for a few seconds. “Do you need help alleviating your discomfort?” He asks, his voice a little rougher now.

“Please tell me you did not just ask me that.” Dean definitely thinks he’s dreaming again. Cas wouldn’t ask that kind of thing, would he? He knows what sex is and he has to know that friends don’t normally offer to help friends with boners. No, Dean must be losing his mind.

“I can’t do that because I did ask it, Dean.” Cas tilts his head, perplexed at Dean’s request. Cas’ hand reaches up to rest on the bed momentarily, and when he begins to slide it under the covers, Dean is convinced he is either dreaming or having another vision.

“I know you usually take care of this issue on your own but right now you are ill. I can help you, Dean.” Cas’ says, voice low and rough again. He continues sliding his hand under the sheets, pushing them back, and when his fingers flutter over Dean’s thigh, Dean thinks he might pass out from lack of oxygen. Despite all his panicking and struggling to breathe, Dean hasn’t moved away from Cas’ touch, which makes him panic even more. Cas leans in and whispers close to Dean’s ear. “Relax.”

Dean wants to laugh at that but his jaw is clenched too tightly from nerves. Dean’s eyes follow every movement as Cas traces his fingers higher up Dean’s thigh, and he feels himself getting hotter and harder. Since this is a dream, albeit a very vivid dream, Dean reasons, maybe he should just let it happen. His wall has gone to shit anyway. He can repair it later when he’s awake.

Still on his side, Dean shifts his top leg a little, exposing more of his crotch. Cas takes the invitation and his hand delicately skims his inner thigh then the other. Cas moves his fingers slowly toward Dean’s length and it’s a sweet torture that Dean didn’t think was possible to experience in dreams. He sighs, “Cas.”

Finally, the angel’s fingers caress the outline of Dean’s cock, ever so gently, and Dean groans softly. He pushes his hips forward and Cas understands, applying more pressure in short, slow movements, making Dean hiss from the sensation.   
  
Cas brings up his other hand and unbuttons Dean’s jeans without stopping his strokes. The hunter begins to wonder how he has even lasted this long but he is suddenly pulled out of his reverie by Cas’ warm grip around his cock, taking it out over his boxers. “Aaah…”  Dean feels a building pressure in his dick and balls at the direct skin to skin contact, Cas’ hand strong and tender.

Cas begins an easy, leisurely stroke that if Dean were doing on himself wouldn’t do much for him, but now it feels like Cas is breaking every bit of Dean’s sanity, delicious little sparks shooting down his cock with every tug and pull. Just as the dry friction begins to get a bit uncomfortable, Cas lets go. Dean glances up to see him slowly flicking his pink, wet tongue over his palm and fingers, making them almost dripping wet. Dean lets out a gasp and accidentally looks into Cas’ eyes.

The angel’s dark sapphire eyes are piercing and wanting. They rake hungrily over Dean’s lips. Without thinking, Dean licks them, and gently sucks in his bottom lip, turning it a deep ruby red. Cas inhales sharply and returns his grip to Dean’s dick, slicking it up all over. He tightens his hold and begins to pump faster. Dean feels himself getting close, soft moans spilling out as his body tenses with rising pleasure.

The angel leans in closer, his voice a coarse whisper. “Dean?” Dean is gasping and breathing harshly. His cock throbs, so full and hard that Dean is sure that he’s going to shatter. He closes his eyes and hears Cas’ voice rumble by his ear. “This is real.”

A crash of paralyzing pleasure rolls through Dean’s entire body and then his cock is pulsating, the intense force of each spurt causing him to moan loudly and pant quick and heavy into the pillow. The angel pumps him through his orgasm, his dick giving faint twitches until it’s fully spent, and then Cas slowly releases him.

Dean blows out a puff of air, turning on to his back, and feels emptied, satisfied, elated. His body gradually winds down and his mind begins to clear. He opens his eyes and frowns as he tries to recall what Cas said.

_Son of a bitch._

Very reluctantly, Dean turns his gaze to the angel still crouching beside him, watching him heatedly. Dean works his lips but can’t make any sound come out. Heavy sweat forms at his temples and behind his neck. No, this _has_ to be a dream. There is no possible way that Cas just did that to him and that Dean _let it happen_. He tries to talk again but ends up choking on air and coughs violently. He feels his heart begin to spasm with its attempts at calming down.

Right when he thinks he might start convulsing with horror and embarrassment, Cas reaches up and grazes his forehead with two fingers.

\---

Dean’s eyes are gritty with sleep, and he rubs at them slowly, opening them to see his giraffe of a brother sitting at the table with his laptop, the afternoon sun streaming through the half-parted curtains. Sam looks up and immediately walks over with a glass of water.

“Hey Dean,” Sam says with some relief.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean sits up, yawns, and takes the glass, downing it quickly. He hands it back and stretches.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, actually.” Dean swings his feet over the bed and stands, stretching again. He catches a whiff of his own smell and grimaces. “I’m gonna go shower.” He stumbles to the bathroom, grabbing his clothes on the way. “Coffee?”

“Yeah, I’ll make another pot,” replies Sam and heads to the kitchenette.

Once in the bathroom, Dean begins to undress and when his hand reaches the zipper of his jeans, he freezes. There is a roaring rush of blood to his ears as he remembers. Cas had wrapped his warm, slick hand over Dean’s cock and had taken him over the edge, hard and fast. An electric current shoots from Dean’s spine down to his dick at the memory.

Before his panic can take over, Dean takes a deep breath. He knows what he has to do. Brick by brick, he needs to rebuild the wall as best he can. He stands there, looking at his reflection in the mirror, and concentrates on smothering this morning and last night into the shadows. He thinks about what he was born to do, the hunt, the job. He thinks about the monsters he must kill. He thinks about how he has to take care of Sam. He thinks about the people he must protect. He feels his mind separating and compartmentalizing. It’s almost like a physical sensation, shoving all the unwanted thoughts down and far away into a corner. He doesn’t realize how long he is standing there until he hears a knock at the door, startling him.

“Dean? You okay?” Sam’s muted voice comes through the door.

“Yeah, I’ll be out soon.” Dean calls back. He still has more rebuilding to do but it’s good enough for now. He jumps into the shower and washes quickly. He pops out of the bathroom in his jeans and is in the process of pulling his t-shirt over his head when he bumps into a hard, immobile body. “What the hell…” He struggles to pull the shirt past his eyes. He feels two hands grip and pull it down, smoothing the fabric over his waist. “Cas!?” Dean chokes out.

“Hello Dean.” Cas replies, his hands still lingering over Dean’s waist. “I see you are feeling better.”

Dean instantly backs away from Cas’ touch. “Uh, yeah, I’m better.” He heads to the freshly brewed coffee pot and pours himself a cup, keeping his back to the angel, trying to calm his nerves. “So, uh, Sam, we should head back to the bunker after breakfast.”

Sam looks up from his laptop. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dean. Cas says that was a pretty powerful spell and we don’t know its full effects. Putting you under any strain might hurt you.”

Dean turns around. “Oh c’mon on Sammy. Sabrina the Teenage Witch’s little spell isn’t going to send me to the loony bin.”

“As I said before, Don was a very powerful witch and the magic he used for that hex bag is beyond most witches’ abilities. The items alone are very difficult to find. He also successfully summoned Yr Hwch Ddu Gwta, which hasn’t been done in centuries.” Cas replies.

Dean doesn’t look at Cas, keeping his eyes on his coffee mug. “I’m fine. I’m not some weak little kid. You took down Ms. Piggy easily enough. Besides, the less time we spend in this stupid place, the better.”

“No, Dean. You heard Cas, this isn’t just a regular spell you were under. This thing messed with your head big time. You should have seen yourself last night. You were completely out of it.” Sam’s eyebrows curl gloomily. “It was pretty hard to watch, man.”

“Sam, I’m fine. Seriously.”

“Let’s just stay another day, okay? I’d never forgive myself if we end up turning your brain into tomato soup.” Sam looks up with his sad, worried baby doe eyes that makes Dean want to groan with frustration. That look always gets to him.

“Fine. One more day then we head back to the bunker. Illinois sucks.” Dean mutters, finishing off his coffee. “So what are we gonna do all day anyway? I can’t stay cooped up here the whole time and I’m starving.”

“There’s a diner up the road we can walk to. Afterward, I guess we can just explore the area. Cas, is it okay for Dean to be in the car for short periods of time?”

“I don’t see that being a problem, as long as he doesn’t encounter anything that might put added stress on him.” Cas replies.

“Sweet, let’s get going, Sam.” Dean says, eager to get some food in him and, most importantly, get away from Cas.

\---

As they walk to the diner, Dean feels pretty proud of himself for managing to get through that conversation with Cas and not breaking out into a sweat over all the things they have done together. Sam seems to have read his mind and immediately destroys Dean’s good mood.

“So, Dean” Sam starts, glancing at his brother from the side. “You and Cas still seem to be a little weird around each other. What the hell happened last night?”

Dean groans. “Sam, nothing happened okay? I told you it was just Cas being bizarre and getting all worked up about nothing. Why does it matter, anyway? We got the witch bastard and we saved everyone. The job is done.”

“Dean, it was definitely not ‘nothing’. You were a wreck and when I found Cas, he was just standing there like someone had ripped out his guts. He wouldn’t say anything. Whatever happened between you two, it’s something.”

Dean missteps and almost trips at that bit of information. Somehow, Dean really had hurt Cas, enough for Sam to notice. There goes any trace of good feeling Dean had left.

Sam continues talking. “You said he was worried about you after what happened with Don, so I can only guess that you went all macho idiot on him and told him to suck it up.” Sam lifts an eyebrow at Dean.

Dean begins to walk faster. He knows it’s childish to literally walk away from a conversation but he isn’t sure he can just lie to Sam about what happened without sounding like a complete jackass and having Sam force him to apologize. He definitely can’t tell him the truth.

Fortunately, Sam doesn’t say anything else. They reach the diner and slip into a booth. The waitress that comes over has nice legs that Dean takes a moment to appreciate. He places his order with a sweet smile and his eyes stay on her ass when she walks away. They get their food and eat quickly, only exchanging a few words about another case they might pick up soon. The waitress comes back with their bill and gives Dean a smoldering look. After they pay, she slips a napkin Dean’s way and sashays her hips back to the register. Dean pockets the napkin and winks at her as they walk out of the diner.

Dean’s luck doesn’t last long because Sam is a goddamn killjoy.

“Cas is only looking out for you, y’know? Somehow, an Angel of the Lord likes us enough to have stuck around all these years and help out.” Sam says as they walk back to the motel.

“Sammy, why can’t you just let this thing go? He’s over it, I’m over it. It’s done.” Dean sighs. Why the hell is Sam so intent on having this conversation?

“Because I happen to like Cas, Dean. He’s a good guy, er, angel. He doesn’t understand everything like we do and we owe it to him to at least try not to be assholes.”

“It’s not our job to baby him, Sam, even if he pretty much is one.” Dean grunts out.

“I’m not an infant, Dean.” comes an annoyed, gravelly voice next to him.

“Fuck!” Dean jumps up. “Seriously!?” Dean gets a few angry, offended stares from passersby.

“I’m not even human” Cas continues, scowling “and I’m occupying a fully grown male vessel.”

“Cas, he didn’t mean it like that.” Sam interjects. “But, um, I am wondering what happened last night between you guys. I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Cas, but I thought it’d be good to talk it out.”

“Oh, so what? Cas gets a pass but you try to practically beat it out of me?” Dean gripes.

Sam frowns at Dean then looks back at the angel. “Cas, I’m here if you want to talk. I know Dean can be a jerk.”

“Thank you, Sam. I assure you there is nothing wrong.” Cas says calmly.

“That settles that then.” Dean says, unsure whether it is a good thing or not that Cas isn’t bothered by anything about last night, not to mention this morning. Dean retraces his mental steps because this morning is already supposed to be locked away. “So what did you want, Cas?”

“I wanted to see how you were progressing, Dean.”

“I’m fine. You don’t have to check up on me like I’m some crazy asylum patient, Cas.” Dean grumbles and starts walking ahead.

“Dean! Geez, what’s up with you, man?” Sam walks after him. “Cas is just worried.” He glances at Cas. “Cas, other than being a chronic jackass, Dean is okay. Is there anything specifically we should watch out for?”

“Not that I am aware. It varies from person to person. However, it’s a good sign that Dean hasn’t experienced any further side effects.”

“Okay, good. Well, we’re on our way back to the motel, if you want to join us.” Sam says.

Dean whips around at that. “Cas has better things to do, Sam. Isn’t that right, Cas?”

Cas looks a little hurt but quickly goes stoic again. “Yes, I have other things to do.” He responds softly.

“Like what?” Sam asks, pissed off at Dean’s attitude. “Cas, ignore Dean. I don’t want to be stuck with him all day anyway.”

“Sam, seriously, I don’t need Cas to be my guardian angel. He said himself I’m good.”

“Cas, you’re coming.” Sam says, his nostrils flaring and eyes squinting sharply at Dean.

\---

The ride around town should be relaxing but with Dean not being able to drive or choose the music, he has nothing to distract him from the angel in the backseat. Sam chatters away with Cas about random stuff and Dean tries to tune it all out but Cas’ deep voice sends a thrill through him that he can’t block out.

Eventually they stop moving and Dean snorts as he reads the sign. “Really? The Luthy botanical gardens? What are we hippies now?” He glances over at Sam. “Though I guess you have the hair already.”

“It’ll help with your recovery.” Sam scowls as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “Come on.”

Dean reluctantly gets out of the car and looks at the entrance of the huge gardens. There aren’t many people visiting since it’s Thursday and it doesn’t look too bad.

“I was thinking we could get to the herb garden first and then the woodland garden.” Sam says excitedly, his eyes already lighting up.

“Uh, yeah you can do that. I’m just going to walk around. You two nerds go have fun.” Dean smirks.

Sam frowns. “You can’t go off by yourself, Dean. What if you have another hallucination?”

“Sam, man, nothing is going to hap-“

Cas cuts Dean off. “It’s okay, Sam. I can watch over Dean.”

“I don’t need watchin’, Cas.” Dean rolls his eyes.

“I don’t mind.”

Sam nods. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Thanks Cas.” He starts to walk away quickly.

“Sam! Hey! Don’t just leave me here with the nerdy angel!” Dean yells after him, but Sam disappears behind the gate. “Goddamn it.” He growls.

“I’m sorry to be such a disappointing companion, Dean, but you need to be monitored.” Cas says with a grim expression.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean walks past the entrance and chooses a random pathway. They walk in silence past several types of garden, Dean not really paying attention to any of the sights, only worrying about now being alone with Cas. An hour or so later, the angel stops walking.

“Dean.” Cas stares at an opening along a thick wall of plants for a moment and then goes inside.

Dean groans and hesitates before following. He walks a few steps inside and a pond comes into view, secluded from the rest of the gardens by trees, massive leaves, and thousands of flowers. “Wow…” he says, accidentally letting his amazement slip.

The pond is clear with bright pink water lilies floating on it and big colorful koi fish swimming serenely at the bottom, the sun casting a wondrous glow on everything. Flowers and plants of many varieties encircle it and give off a sweet, calming smell. There are natural rock steps leading down to it and a small limestone bench off to one side. It looks like something from a painting or a fairy tale, Dean thinks with awe.

Cas walks down the steps and stares out at the pond, his face taking on a calm expression. Dean looks on from the top of the steps and can’t help but feel calm as well. It is truly beautiful. At that moment, Cas turns to him with a small smile and Dean’s heart skips a beat.

The sun catches the auburn highlights of Cas’ dark hair and casts a rosy glow on his cheeks. But it’s his eyes that make Dean take a deep shaky breath. They shine so brightly in the afternoon sun; their sapphire blue radiance seems almost ethereal, otherworldly. Dean’s chest expands to the point that Dean is afraid it will rupture.

He doesn’t even realize he’s walked down the steps until he’s right in front of Cas, returning his soft smile.

Cas keeps his eyes on him and his smile gets bigger and sweeter, as if he was staring at God himself. He leans closer to Dean and Dean mirrors his movement, until their foreheads are nearly touching and they are breathing softly against each other. Dean feels at peace.

“Cas…” he says softly. He thinks that if he had a heaven, this place and this moment would be it.

Cas’ eyes shine brighter and even more beautiful, engulfing Dean completely. Nothing else matters at that point because Dean can see the whole of the universe in the angel’s eyes.

The evening comes and Dean is so lost in Cas’ brilliance that even after he hears Sam calling him, he doesn’t respond. The trees and leaves up ahead begin to rustle and Cas turns toward the stairs, where Sam is stumbling down.

“Guys, I’ve been calling you for the past 30 minutes! Why didn’t you pick up your cells?” Sam looks inquisitively at both of them. Dean still hasn’t registered that Sam is there and Sam has to say his name a few times before he blinks and takes his eyes off of Cas. “Dean? Earth to Dean?”

“What?” Dean turns to Sam.

“Dude, you okay?” Sam asks, bewildered at his brother’s odd behavior.

“We were simply observing this beautiful pond, Sam.” Cas responds.

“Right.” Sam quirks up an eyebrow. “Well, they are closing in a few minutes so we should go. Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dean replies, still in a slight daze.

“Just checking you’re still on Earth.” Sam’s lips lift up in one corner. “I guess you were overwhelmed by the garden’s immense magical beauty.” Sam says dramatically, putting his hand over his heart.

“Shuddup, Sam.” Dean collects himself enough for a response, but doesn’t stop riding that high of tranquility and peace in his chest.

\---

Dean keeps his eyes squarely on the blaring television while Sam and Cas talk about nerdy things at the table. As soon as they had gotten back to the motel, Dean snapped out of his daze and now is trying his best to ignore both of them as much as possible.  Earlier, Sam had asked what he wanted for dinner and Dean had grunted out ‘Italian’, quickly turning back to the television, but not before he catching the tiny smile that Cas sent his way and Dean felt like his insides had turned to liquid.

Now, his insides still mushy, Dean is processing what happened at the gardens. He has never experienced anything like it. He knows a lot about sex. He knows a little bit about relationships, and even less about love, but what happened today is something else entirely, something new. It had felt like everything was suddenly right and he wasn’t Dean the hunter, he was just Dean, raw and pure, standing in front of a beautiful angel who looked right through him, saw him for what he was, and didn’t run away. It scares him how wonderful and weightless he had felt. Until he came to his senses anyway.

The food comes and it is enough of a distraction until, in the middle of eating, Sam speaks up.

“So Cas, how’d you learn to dance like that? That was great. I was pretty impressed.”

“I learned it from various sources, though some of the choreography was my own.” Cas says proudly.

“Really? That’s awesome.” Sam smiles.

“I could teach you, if you’d like.” Cas says, a bit proud.

“Uh…..” Sam coughs. “Well…I don’t…Uh…” Cas looks at him happily and Sam is done in “yeah okay, why not.” Sam laughs.

Dean stops eating, setting down his aluminum container on the table, and doesn’t even try to pretend to watch television. Cas and Sam dancing. Dean feels his hairs bristle at the thought.

And then Sam is standing up and Cas is instructing him on how to stand in the proper position. Dean turns to look at the duo and his stomach coils. He watches as Sam and Cas take off in a basic square. Sam laughing and making light of it all. Dean feels sick, his chest clenching tightly.

Dean gets up quickly and quietly. The way they are positioned in the big room, the exit is obstructed from their view. He grabs his jacket and hurries outside. He closes the door behind him softly. He walks briskly down the street and heads to the diner they had gone to earlier. He isn’t hungry, but he knows something else he could get tonight that might help him ease his mind.

He slips the napkin out of his pocket and glances at the name before going inside.


	6. Rough Gem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't been able to write due to moving, new job, writer's block, etc. I forced myself to write tonight.
> 
> Sorry for the cliches, OoC, and the angst. I don't see this story going beyond 10 chapters, so the angst should end soon! Critique is greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

It isn’t too busy and Dean heads straight to the booth that he and Sam sat in earlier that day. He grabs the menu but doesn’t look at it, surveying the diner instead.  As he’s looking around, an older man in a black apron comes up to him with a notepad.

 

“What’ll it be, son?”

 

Dean turns to him, a little surprised. “Oh…uh. Is Abby here?”

 

“’Fraid not. Her shift ended about an hour ago.” The man holds the pad up expectantly. “So? What’d you like to order?”

 

“I’ll have some iced tea for now.” Dean feels guilty for not ordering food, but he didn’t come here to eat.

 

“We ain’t got iced tea this time of year. It’s fall.” The older man says.

 

Dean forgot he’s in the north. “Oh, yeah I’ll just have a coke and a water.”

 

“Alright, anything else?”

 

“Um, no, no I’m good.” The man looks at him tiredly before walking off and Dean takes the napkin out of his pocket again. He stares at it for a while and then gets out his cell phone.** He sends out a quick text.

 

Dean: Hey, how are ya?

 

A few seconds pass and his phone chimes.

 

A: Who is this?

 

Dean smiles.

 

Dean: From the diner earlier.

 

A: Oh right! Pretty guy with that super tall giraffe lol

 

Dean: Yep. You doing anything tonight?

 

A: Maybe ;)

 

Dean: You up for something? ;)

 

A: Maybe ;)

 

Dean: haha you wanna meet up somewhere?

 

A: Where are you

 

Dean: Diner

 

A: I don’t like mixing business with pleasure. Crested Oak Hotel good?

 

 

Dean looks up from his phone with a smile on his face.

 

Cas is there, sitting in front of him.

 

“Jesus!” Dean jumps and almost drops his phone. The angel stares at him blankly and it takes a while for Dean to come to his senses. He coughs and types a response on his phone before putting it in his pocket. He notices Cas’ eyes flick to his phone and tighten around the corners. He sighs and looks down at his hands. “What do you want, man?” He still can’t bring himself to look at the angel.

 

“You’re going to engage in intercourse with that woman.” Cas states coolly.

 

“Uh, Cas, why are you here?” He peeks up from under his eyelashes. Cas is sitting still and he is emitting an angry energy, making Dean’s arm hair stand on end.

 

“You left the motel room without telling us.”

 

“I needed to be alone.” Dean keeps his eyes downcast.

 

“You can’t be alone, Dean. You are still weakened from the spell. It is imperative that you-“

 

“Dude, I already said I’m fine and I don’t need you watching me all the time.”

 

Cas leans forward, his voice low and angry. “Yes. You do.”

 

A chill runs down Dean’s spine. “You’re taking this too seriously, Cas. Just go do whatever it is you and Sam do when I’m...not around.” Dean is unable to stop himself.

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“What’s there to understand? I want to be alone and you two obviously have…something.”

 

“What are you referring to?” Cas takes on a confused look.

 

Dean sighs again. “Man, I don’t know.  Like that dancing earlier. Two dudes dancing together…that ain’t normal between two guys.” Dean raises his hands up nonchalantly. “But don’t mind me, I don’t care. I always figured Sammy was a bit of a girl anyway.” Dean gets up and starts walking to the exit. “Anyway, I have a thing, so…gotta go.” He makes it a few steps into the cold night air before he almost slams into a solid wall of angel.

 

“Dean.”

 

“Damn it, Cas! I told you not to do that.” He takes a step back. “Let me through, man. I’ll meet you guys back at the motel. Just give me a goddamn night to myself, alright?” He walks around the angel but Cas appears in front of him again.

 

“Dean, stop.”

 

Dean stands still and doesn’t look at him. “I’m getting real tired of this crap. You don’t need to babysit me.”

 

“Like I said, it is not good for you to be alone. You could have another hallucination.”

 

Dean’s emotions boil over. “Leave me alone, you goddamn angel!” He yells gruffly and pushes him away, catching the shocked expression on Cas’ face. He starts walking down the street but Cas follows close behind.

 

“Dean, what’s wrong? You’re upset.”

 

Dean laughs bitterly. “Oh, you picked up on that?” Dean flips up his collar and keeps walking “Why do you give a shit anyway?!”

 

Cas suddenly grabs Dean hard by the shoulder and turns him around forcefully to face him. “Because I care about you, Dean.” He says somewhat irritably, a tightness around his eyes

 

“Right.” Dean spits out. “I don’t need you to care.”

 

“Have I done something wrong?” Cas frowns. Dean doesn’t respond and walks around him. “Dean!”

 

“Goddamn it, leave me alone!” he growls. “Sam’s waiting for you!”

 

This time, Cas grips Dean’s wrist and yanks him back. His eyes are intense and angry, and a little of part of Dean shudders at the power radiating from them. “Do you think that Sam and I are in…a relationship?”

 

“You have a real problem understanding what it means when people tell you to go away, don’t you?” Dean is trembling now. His hands are getting cold and his throat is convulsing.

 

“Why would you think that Sam and I are more than friends and brothers in arms?” Cas doesn’t ease up his grip of Dean’s wrist.

 

“It doesn’t matter what I think.” Dean sighs out. All of a sudden, he’s tired and wants to end this conversation.

 

“It does matter.” Cas says. “Is that why you are upset?” his voice a little softer now. When Dean doesn’t say anything, Cas takes a step closer to him. “Dean. Tell me.” Dean stays silent. He’ll be damned if he admits anything to Cas. The angel takes another step toward him and they are very close now. “I don’t have any feelings toward your brother. Not in the way you are thinking.”

 

Dean twists his wrist out of Cas’ hand and forces a smile. “Hey, don’t hold back on my account, man. You two do what you want. Though I’d be careful with the PDA ‘cause you’ll become fist magnets. Now, I really have to go. I’ll be back before midnight, okay?” he looks expectantly at Cas.

 

Cas is suddenly a nearly glowing mass of rage and he doesn’t move.  Dean shrugs and begins his trek to a neon sign in the distance. “You’re going to see the woman you messaged earlier.” Cas says from behind him.

 

“Yeah, a man does have needs, buddy.” Dean keeps walking. “You’d understand, if you were huma--“He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Cas has grabbed his hand and is pulling him roughly down another street. “Cas, what the hell!?” The angel pulls him around a building and shoves him forward.

 

“Tell me, Dean.” His voice almost a growl.

 

“Tell you what?! What the hell?!” Dean scrambles against the wall.

 

“Tell me!”

 

It takes Dean a while to realize what Cas means. “Cas, I already told you. I don’t care!”

 

“You’re lying, Dean.” Cas inches his face closer to the hunter, his voice low and a near whisper. “You’re lying.” And then he smashes his lips against Dean’s.

 

Dean is stunned for a few seconds. Before he can sink into the softness of the angel’s lips, he twists his head away and pushes hard at Cas’ shoulders. The angel takes a step back. He seems to be vibrating with anger.

 

The hunter looks away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he growls quietly. He eases out from between the wall and Cas and turns his back to him. “What’s wrong with you? I’m not into that shit.” Before he can blink, Cas is on him, whipping him around and slamming him into the grass, knocking the wind out of him.

 

Cas holds Dean’s arms across his chest and straddles his thighs. His eyes blaze and he leans down close to Dean’s face. “Listen to me, you donkey. Don’t take your human psychological turmoil out on me. I have taken care of you. I have been there for you. I have done everything…for you. I don’t deserve your bullshit, Dean.”

 

Dean stares up at him. Cas’ anger is otherworldly. Dean can feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up with innate fear.

 

“I still don’t know why you care, Cas.” Dean says in a croaky whisper. He stares at the stars above. “Or...” he hesitates. “Or why you just…”

 

“Why I kissed you.” Cas states. Dean gives a barely detectable nod, clenching his jaw. “Because…” Cas hesitates this time. He searches Dean’s eyes but Dean keeps them trained on the sky.

 

“’M sorry.” He says in a small voice.

 

Cas seems to deflate and he brings up a hand like he’s about to touch Dean’s face but it hovers right above his cheek. “I forgive you, Dean.” He leans closer and their lips almost brush against each other. Dean breathes in Cas’ forest scent. “Dean.”

 

Dean looks at the angel and panics. He turns his head away again. “You’re kind of heavy, Cas. If you’re done kicking my ass, I’d like to get up.”

 

Cas takes his hand back and Dean can’t help feel sad. Cas gets off of him and helps him up. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He dusts his jeans off and rotates his neck. The tension in the air is maddening as they stand there. “We should get back to the hotel. Sam is waiting.” He uses all his strength to push everything about the situation into the shadows.

 

“Yes.” Cas responds, a little hoarse. They begin to walk back down the street in silence.

 

Dean’s lips quirk up. “Okay, but seriously, ‘you donkey’? You have like the worst insults ever, man.”

 

“Is that not the correct term? I have heard the term ‘jackass’ many times, which holds the same meaning, right?”

 

Dean roars with laughter and has to grip his side to ease the stitch forming there. “Oh man, that is just amazing. I love you, man.” He chuckles. The angel stops walking abruptly. Dean turns around to see Cas looking shocked. “What? What’s wrong?”

 

“I love you too, Dean.” He says softly.

 

Dean doesn’t say anything, his mouth slightly agape. His whole body turns warm and his heart is in his throat. He clears his throat a few times and finally croaks out. “I-I mean-No, Cas“ He forces out a nervous laugh. “Y-you know, what I meant.”

 

 Cas closes the space between them in one stride and stands a just few inches away from him. “It seems my Father has a sense of humor because I feel it, Dean. So strongly. This human emotion. It consumes me to the point that I forget who I am, _what_ I am, sometimes.”

 

“Shit.” Dean gasps. He closes his eyes and prays he wake up. This is the worst hallucination yet. His lips tremble and tears well up in his eyes. Then he feels warm lips softly press against each of his closed eyes. Dean chokes out a sob. “I can’t do this again. I hate this. I just want to wake up. Please, God. Please.”

 

Cas moves his hands around Dean’s shoulders and pulls him in gently, holding him, shushing him. “You know if this is real or not. You know.”

 

Dean feels so broken, so confused. He feels like someone else, looking in on the scene unfolding before him. “No. You can’t love me. I’m the last person on earth that deserves it. This can’t be real.”

 

“It is real. My love for you is real, Dean. You deserve it.”

 

Dean shakes his head.

 

“Dean.” Cas says sternly. “You don’t get to decide who loves you.”

 

“It’s wrong, Cas.”

 

“Dean! Look at me!” Cas snaps and that makes Dean look up. The angel’s eyes are narrowed and his lips are a thin white line. “Do you think it is normal for an angel to love a human? A mortal? Do you realize how strong the bond must be for an angel to even feel such an emotion? I love you, Dean. I have for quite some time. I think I was in love with you before I knew what the feeling was. I love you. Despite your stubbornness and your propensity to carry the weight of the universe on your shoulders. Despite your inclination to put yourself at risk every single time. It’s, in fact, because of that. Because you care so much that you drown in it. Because you are so stubborn about doing what needs to be done to save others. Because you carry on and push through all the torment and hell and pain. Because you are so--”

 

Dean’s walls shatter and then he is kissing the angel.

 

Cas returns the kiss, soft and surprised at first, but then Dean’s tongue slips inside his mouth and Cas kisses back harder. Dean sweeps his tongue against his and pulls back slightly to nip at his bottom lip. There’s a desperate growl vibrating from Cas’ chest and his kiss intensifies, taking all the breath out of Dean’s lungs.

 

When Dean shifts to breathe, he is suddenly on his back on the grass near the darkened sidewalk. Cas is straddling his hips and bending down to kiss him fiercely, his hands planted on either side of Dean’s shoulders. Dean can barely keep up and he is breathing hard now. Cas moves his lips to the corner of Dean’s mouth and licks at the soft edges. A tingling sensation begins to pull at Dean’s groin at the angel’s touch. Cas moves down to the side of his chin and kisses it chastely before moving down his throat, nipping and licking it as he goes.

 

Dean feels himself getting hard now and a moan slips out when Cas sucks on the base of his throat. Cas’ hands grip his shoulders and then he shifts his body. Dean gasps at the hardness rubbing against his own. The angel grinds down and grunts as he elicits a deep groan from the hunter. Cas’ cock is so hard and thick, even through their clothing, and the mental image has Dean whimpering with desire.

 

Suddenly, his pants are being unzipped and his dick springs free. He hears another zipper being opened. He looks down and stops breathing. Cas’ cock is thick and long, flushed in a beautiful red, laced with enlarged throbbing veins, and there is a small drop of clear pre-come glistening from the tip. Dean pants heavily and wants nothing more than to touch it, grip it in his hands and make his angel come.

 

Cas has other ideas as he pushes his hips forward and positions their cocks together. He licks his palm with long, wet sweeps of his tongue and brings it down to curl around both their lengths. He squeezes and Dean exhales sharply and automatically thrusts his hips upward. The heat of Cas’ cock is intense and the hardness pushes against his tightly.  Cas bends down again to take Dean’s lips. Dean is still panting and can barely make his mouth move. Cas doesn’t seem to care and invades Dean’s mouth. As he kisses the man deeply, he begins to stroke them slowly, the heads rubbing against each other.

 

He grunts and Dean groans. “Faster…” The angel picks up speed and Dean can’t help the soft noises erupting from his throat. “Nnnggg…”

 

Cas isn’t far behind him and he moans. He begins to move his hips in time with his hand. “Oh, Dean.” His voice is so hoarse and low. He kisses him again and bites at the roundness of his chin, sending a thrilling spark down Dean’s body.

 

“Cas…I’m close.” Dean gasps. “Oh god…” The angel pumps them faster and squeezes the heads together, precome dribbling out of them both now. “Cas…” The hunter’s voice seems to get trapped and he opens his mouth in a silent plea.

 

Cas moans again, louder, as the pressure builds. Dean pushes up against him and Cas releases into his hand, letting out a shuddering breath. “Dean…”

 

The hunter looks down dazedly as the come splatters on his shirt and covers Cas’ hand. The sight drives him over the edge and he is emptying out with a shout. His entire body shakes and it takes him a few seconds to come down, his breathing harsh and sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. Cas bends down and kisses him once before resting his head on his shoulder.

 

After a few seconds of trying to catch his breath, Dean huffs out. “I think I’m going to hell for that.”

 

“Don’t joke about such things, Dean.” Cas says, his voice muffled by Dean’s shoulder.

 

“I’m serious. Making an angel spill his load in the middle of the street. That has to be hell-worthy.”

 

“There is nothing wrong about it, Dean.” Cas lifts his head up and kisses Dean’s neck softly, his hand reaching up to curl into his hair. Dean revels in his touch and warmth as continues to try to get his breath under control.

 

A surprised female voice breaks the moment. “Dean?!”

 

Dean’s eyes snap open and widen. “Shit! Abby!” He scrambles to get the angel off of him but Cas merely turns his head to face the woman and stares, not moving. “Cas! Jesus Christ! Get off!” Cas glances at him but still doesn’t move.

 

“I’m obviously disturbing something!” The woman exclaims. She turns on her heels and hurries back down the street. She mutters loudly, “Ugh! To think I almost slept with a homo!”

 

“Oh my god!” Dean groans, letting his head drop back. “Why didn’t you move?!” Dean flushes as he realizes his dick is still out and he goes to tuck himself back in when a hand stops him. He looks at the angel. “What are you doing?”

 

“We’re not done.” Cas says in a rough voice.

 

 

\---

If you asked those who knew Dean Winchester, they would all agree on one thing. Dean Winchester is a complete bad ass. Some would also say he is a ladies’ man (Or a slut, depending on who you ask.)  His partners change just as often as he changes hotels. It’s not like other hunters don’t sleep around, but Dean? Dean is on a whole different level.

Many would also say that Dean Winchester is his father’s son. A man’s man. No nonsense kind of guy. Dean Winchester is the kind of guy you want on your side and never as an enemy.

Which is why they would all be quite shocked to find Dean Winchester with a man’s tongue down his throat. 

 

“Cas!” he gasps, trying to pull back from the onslaught. Cas snakes his hand down Dean’s chest slowly, while his other hand slips around Dean’s length. “Stop!” he breathes.

“Why?” Cas attacks his mouth again and Dean can’t help his hardening dick.

Dean pushes at Cas but he doesn’t budge, so instead Dean moves his head away. “We’re outside!”

“Yes, we are.” The angel licks at Dean’s jaw, a soft, wet rasping against his stubble. He suddenly squeezes the head of Dean’s dick and Dean jolts.

“Cas! I mean it!” Dean claws at Cas’ hand as it slowly rubs come around and down his cock. “Mmphh!”

“You are feeling pleasure. Why should I stop?” Cas moves his head down to place small kisses along Dean’s clavicle. He tugs Dean’s shirt collar down, stretching it to near ripping, and trails kisses to his exposed shoulder. Dean bites his lip to keep from moaning.

Without warning, Dean is out of his haze and becomes acutely aware of everything going on.

He’s having sex with his best friend, who’s a _male_ angel. He takes a deep, loud breath but his body is way ahead of him, already going into panic fight mode.

“Goddamn it, Cas!” Dean rears his legs up and pushes with all his might against the angel’s torso. Cas doesn’t move a single inch but he stops his ministrations and looks at Dean, his brows furrowed.

“You want me to stop?”

“YES! GET OFF!” Dean yells, rage overtaking him. The angel moves away and Dean jumps to his feet.

“Dean?”

“No! Don’t talk!” Dean zips himself up and dusts the grass and dirt from his jeans with more force than necessary. “I’m going back to the motel.” He says gruffly. He takes a few steps and pauses briefly. “I don’t want to see your face for a very long time, you hear me? Keep away from me.” Dean walks away, his clenched fists trembling.


	7. In Other Words

As he walks toward the hotel, his hands ache from clenching them so tightly, his nails starting to bite into the flesh. His throat hurts and he can feel a tightness pulling at his eyes. It was too much this time. There was no pushing this down or hiding it in dark crevices. He just had sex with Castiel.

Dean stops walking and rubs his eyes. He breathes deeply a few times, holding the bridge of his nose. He feels like shit, his emotions going haywire and nothing making sense. He wishes so badly that these _visions_ would just stop because he can’t handle it anymore. He’s going to lose his friggin’ mind.

The light is still on when he reaches the hotel room. He runs a hand through his hair before going inside.

“Dean!” Sam shoots up from where he was sitting on his bed, almost knocking down his laptop. “Are you okay?! You look like crap!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, Sammy.” He turns away from his hovering beast of a brother. “Hey, listen, I’m going to go for a drive.”

“What?! Now?! It’s almost midnight! You need to rest!” Sam follows Dean around the room, trying to take a look at his face, but Dean keeps it down.

“It’s just a drive. I’ll be okay. Just need to clear my head. These visions are…well, a bitch.” Dean grabs the keys and starts to head to the door.

“Wait, Dean! Where’s Cas? He was supposed to call when he found you.”

“Well, he found me.” Dean keeps his eyes averted. “And where were you?” He says a bit irritated.

Sam looks surprised. “I just thought since Cas has been there each time you got out of a vision, it’d be better if he got you. He’s an angel. He seems to know how to handle this kind of thing. If it had been a hunt, I would have gone right away, you know that.” Sam frowns. “But, seriously, where’s Cas?”

Dean shrugs. “Don’t know. He must’ve gone to do angel stuff.”

“Dean, what the hell. You guys fight again? What’s been going on with you two?” Sam moves closer.

“Nothing’s been going on. For Christ’s sake, Sammy, it’s not like I keep tabs on the guy.”

“Dean-“

Dean cuts him off. “Hey, do we have any aspirin? I have a really bad headache.” Dean sits down on a chair near the door, rubs at his temples, and groans.

Sam immediately crinkles his brows with worry. “Um, yeah, We should have some in the first aid kit. Hold on, let me go look.” Sam goes into the bathroom to rummage through his bag.

Dean doesn’t hesitate. He slips out of the room silently and quickly gets into the Impala. As he’s backing out, he hears a muffled ‘Dean!’ as Sam bangs open the hotel door and runs outside. By the time Sam reaches the parking lot, Dean is already driving away.  He keeps his eyes ahead, ignoring his brother’s shrinking silhouette in the rearview mirror.

\---

The Impala speeds down the highway and Dean turns the radio to a random station, settling into his seat. His cell phone vibrates in his jacket pocket but he ignores it. A minute later, it vibrates again. By the fifth call, he takes it out and stuffs it into the glove compartment. He speeds up and his mind drifts.

_“This is Delilah. I want all my listeners to know that they are not alone. Whatever you may be facing right now, it is not the end of the world and you will come out the other side. Just remember to deal with it now before it snowballs into something that’ll really hurt you. It’s tempting to take the easy way out, but that will always lead to disaster.”_

Dean chuckles and shakes his head. As if he’d take advice from an annoying, sanctimonious woman on the radio…

Everything is turning to shit. He can’t keep running away but the thought of actually facing his problems sends a surge of panic through him.

At his very basic, Dean can’t bring himself to deny the sex was amazing…Cas’ touch…his kisses…his hot, wet mouth… devouring him like nothing else existed. For those few minutes, Dean had felt at peace. His demons quelled, his guilt vanished, all that mattered was Cas. There had been so much devotion in his eyes. So much…love.

That is the worst part.

Cas told him he loves him. Him. Dean Winchester. How is that even possible? Dean is a screw up. Hell, even Sam probably just stays by his side out of some twisted overly co-dependent, brotherly obligation. So how could Cas love him? He just doesn’t understand how that makes any goddamn sense.

_…oh, why you look so sad…tears are in your eyes…_

The music is barely audible over the roar of the Impala racing down the highway.

Cas is... Sure, he has done some real stupid things in the past but he always acts with good intentions. In the end, he has saved the world countless times.

_…cause I’ve seen the dark side too…_

Yes, he is an angel. An annoying, pain in the ass angel. But an angel who has saved _him_ time and again, placing himself in front of danger for Dean without fail, without a thought to his own safety. An angel that has been there for him through everything, no matter what. Heaven…Hell… Purgatory… Everything.

_…nothing you confess...can make me love you less…_

He’s always by his side, even when they are far apart or don’t see each other for months. He has made Dean’s life so much more tolerable among the dark, thick muck of the world.

_…won’t let nobody hurt you…_

Dean’s lungs seize.

_… I’ll stand by you…_

Unable to breathe, Dean swerves into the shoulder and slams on the brakes. He leans forward and rests his forehead on the steering wheel, gripping it tightly. He exhales forcefully.

_…Don’t hold it all inside…come on and talk to me now…_

 He slams his hands on the wheel. “Shit! Shit! FUCK!”

_…let me come along, cause even if you’re wrong….I’ll stand by you…_

He chokes on a sob and slaps a hand over his mouth to quash the sound.

_…I’ll never desert you…_

He sits there for a very long time, staring into the dark, the song playing on and making the tears pour faster. For the first time in a long time, Dean has absolutely no idea what to do. He has no escape plan or even a half-brained exit route. He can’t cheat or charm his way out of this problem. He can’t just salt and burn it away.

He really fucked up this time. Everything Dean thought he was, everything he wanted to be in his mind, all those years of building up his self-image were destroyed the moment he stepped into Cas’ arms two nights ago. He is no longer Dean, the world-renowned hunter, who escaped the clutches of the Devil himself. He is lost. His entire reality has shifted.

As the series of emotions race through him, mentally draining him, his body begins to catch up. Bit by bit, his eyelids close and his tears dry. The cold makes him shiver and he wraps his arms around himself.

His last thoughts are of the sweet press of pink, soft lips.

\---

_Tap tap tap._

Dean grunts and rolls over to his side.

 _Tap tap tap_.

Dean mumbles and slowly opens his eyes. A big wide-rimmed hat is the first thing he sees. The second thing he sees is a flashy badge that says “Illinois State Police Trooper.” _Shit._

Dean sits up and quickly rolls down the window, squinting through the bright sunlight at the trooper leaning down to look at him through aviator glasses. “Oh, hey, officer. Um…I’m sorry. I, uh, got really tired and decided to pull to the side to, uh, avoid an accident.” He lifts up a corner of his mouth, hoping the trooper buys his bullshit story.

The trooper tilts her head down to look over her sunglasses. “Uh huh. The shoulder is for emergency vehicles only, sir.”

“Oh. I’m sorry I didn’t know.” Dean tries to look remorseful.

“Are you on drugs?” The officer asks, craning her neck to look around the inside of the car.

“Wh-what?” Dean exclaims.

“Your eyes are red.” She looks at him carefully.

“No, officer. I’m just tired. That’s all. Long drive.” Damn it, Dean forgot all about last night and his big sissy cry-fest.

“Right.” The officer stands up straight, her hand never leaving her gun. “Sir, please step out of the vehicle.”

“Why? What did I do?” Great. Just great.

“Step out of the vehicle, please.” She repeats. Dean can see she is getting pissed so he gets out and instinctively puts his hands behind his head. She pats him down and then points. “Please step over there. Stay in my line of sight.” She begins to walk around the car and opens the backseat. Dean fidgets as she rummages around, trying to remember if he left any knives or weapons out. He feels like Sam explained to him once about his rights and what he needed to do if he was ever stopped but he’s too out of it to remember. Plus, he doesn’t want to make things worse.

The officer lifts up a novelty halo. “You go to a party this weekend?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Cas must have left it behind. Dean almost smiles at the memory of the angel wearing his costume.

The trooper keeps going through the backseat and throws the halo on the ground. Dean can’t explain what on Earth possessed him to do what he does next.

“Hey! What the hell!” he yells and steps closer. The trooper immediately turns around and aims her gun at Dean’s chest.

“Stay where you are! Don’t move!”

Dean freezes. Well, shit.  

\---

He lies on his cot for all of 4 hours before the jailer turns up to his holding cell and opens the door.

“Out on bail.”

Dean lifts his eyebrows. “Huh? Who paid it?”

“Me.” Comes the familiar voice, as a tall figure steps into view.

“Sam.” Dean grimaces.

The way back is silent and tense. Dean is at least glad they were able to get Baby back even if Sam refuses to let him drive.

“So…Attempted assault of a state trooper….You gonna tell me about it or am I going to have to spend the next 30 minutes trying to get it out of you?” Sam was never one to care about making tense situations even worse. He wouldn’t be Sam otherwise.

Dean stays silent for a few moments. He really doesn’t want to talk about it. “It’s just the visions, man. Messing with my head.”

“Yeah, I know, believe me I know, which is why you can’t keep going off on your own, Dean.” Sam glances over at him, his eyes drooping in his classic puppy look. “Do you know how long I searched for you? Cas wouldn’t answer my prayers and if it wasn’t for the GPS in one of our old phones in the trunk, I’d probably never have found you.”

The part about Cas not answering Sam’s prayer makes Dean uneasy but he says nothing.

“Dean, if we want to get through this, we have to stay together. What if you had another vision and nobody was there to pull you out?”

“Yeah…yeah, I know, Sammy. I messed up.” Dean stares at his boots. He could’ve gone under at any moment and who knows if Cas would have found him in time.  Even if he had, after what Dean did, Cas had every right to not help him.

Yet, Dean knows that Cas would have pulled him out because he always does. Dean feels his eyes moisten and he blinks rapidly. God, when did he become such a pansy.

“So, now do you wanna tell me what’s up with you being such a douche to Cas?”

 “Noth-“

“Dean. C’mon. Seriously?” Sam looks at him with an exhausted expression. “Talking about it is not going to kill you. I’m worried, man.” Again with the Bambi eyes. Dean will never stop giving in to that look.

“The visions…are really screwing with me. I do and say things I shouldn’t.” Dean knows in his gut that his little trips to Wonderland are a scape goat.

Sam lifts an eyebrow way up. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been…doing crap that I shouldn’t be doing.”

Sam looks over worriedly. “Woah, what? Like what?”

“Nothing bad or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. I just feel weird, y’know? I don’t feel like myself. God, I mean the fact that I’m even talking about this is proof enough.” Dean rubs his hand across his face.

“Dean, you were under a spell, of course you aren’t going to feel great. That’s why we gotta keep an eye on you. I mean, as long as you aren’t going darkside, don’t let it get to you. You’ll be back to normal soon.”

“I don’t know, Sammy. It’s like too late now. I’m getting all…. _emotional_.” Dean makes a disgusted sound.

“You’re upset because you have feelings? Well, welcome to being a functional adult…” Sam is not impressed.

“That’s not what I mean! This is more than that. Like…like with Cas.”

“Cas? What about him?”

“He and I…we just aren’t getting along.”

“Um, yeah, hard not to notice, man.”

“I mean, he’s messing me up. It’s like…” Dean knows he isn’t making any sense but he plows on because he can’t seem to shut up now. “I can’t be...”

“Dean, you aren’t making any sense. Are you upset about the visions or what? What does Cas have to do with anything? And besides, this is just a rough patch, what with your condition and everything. You need to give it time. We don’t blame you.”

“No, there’s nothing to give time to. Cas is an angel. He doesn’t understand these things.”

“Uh, Dean. Cas has lived for billions of years and has a crap load of experience. How is--”

“That’s not the point!” Dean says suddenly angry. Why didn’t Sam understand? “It’s not me! I can’t do it!”

“Dude.” Sam slows the car down and pulls over into a rest area. “What are you even talking about? You’ve lost me.”

“What else would we be talking about?” Dean does his best to look confused.

“I don’t know, but a fight with Cas a pretty weird thing to get so worked up about. You guys have little lover’s spats all the time but you eventually kiss and make up.”

Dean whips his head around to look at Sam. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” He clenches his fists.

“Lighten up, geez. It’s a joke.” Sam seems to become more and more perplexed at Dean’s ranting.

Dean takes a breath. “It’s just…I don’t know. What am I supposed to do now? Everything is already messed up.” Dean bows his head and grips his hair in frustration. Sam wasn’t taking any of this seriously. And why would he? Dean and Cas were best friends.

“Dean.” Sam twists in his seat to stare at his big brother. “Okay, we are definitely not on the same wavelength here. I don’t know what the hell you are actually talking about but I’m going to humor you. There isn’t a How To manual to this.” Sam sighs. “Just…try to talk to him. He’s your best friend. We both know it’s guaranteed we will end up dying a crappy death at the hands of some monster or demon, so the way I see it, we should keep the few friends we have left.”

Dean lets that sink in. His baby brother almost makes sense. He rubs his face again. “Alright, let’s end this conversation before our periods start synchronizing.”

Sam shakes his head and puts the car into drive. “Seems like that vision-induced emotional side of you didn’t last long.”

\---

As soon as they get to the hotel, they pack up and get back on the road. The brothers don’t talk much, though Sam tries to bring up Cas’ absence a few times and Dean’s reply is always a shrug.

By the evening, Dean has managed to not think about the angel for most of the drive. Dean almost laughs at how well he has trained himself to _not_ think.

They get to the bunker exhausted and Dean heads straight for his room. “Turning in early, Sam!” he shouts down the hall.

“Night, Dean.”

Dean flops onto his bed. Now that he’s in his quiet room in the bunker, somehow it feels safe to think and feel freely.  But instead of having yet another long, worn-out mental breakdown full of confusing emotions and guilt-ridden thoughts, Dean stops himself. It’s time to sack up. A jolt of fear goes through him and he grits his teeth. No, enough is enough. He’s not going to let whatever screwed up witch’s curse mess up his friendship with Cas. Cas is an angel. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Maybe he thought Dean wanted the sex. Maybe Dean imagined it. Either way, he needs to make this right. He closes his eyes.

“Cas?” he pauses “Cas, it’s Dean. Uh, I know I’m probably the last person you want to answer prayers for, but I think it’s time we talk,” He hesitates. The fear that Cas actually meant everything he said and did almost stops Dean entirely. What if it was all just a dream? The lines of reality seemed to blur and sharpen with no pattern.

He takes a moment to focus on his breathing. “Talk about what happened… I’m in my room at the bunker. So, if you want, you can come over and we can talk.” He opens an eye to peek around but nothing happens. He closes his eyes again and shifts in his bed. “Cas, I’m, uh, sorry I was such a dickbag. C’mon man, we need to talk. I won’t walk away again. You gotta understand how hard this is for me…” Dean shakes his head. “No, forget that, I’m sorry. This isn’t just about me. We need to talk. Please.” Dean opens his eyes and his heart sinks. “Please.”

Dean waits all night, but the angel never appears. He gets dressed for bed and slips under the covers, praying one last time. When nothing happens, he shuts off the light and falls into a fitful sleep.

\---

The weeks pass by and the brothers take on a few more hunts which keep Dean too busy to sulk too much. After a particularly grueling hunt, they decide to take a few days off for the holidays. Dean volunteers to cook a small turkey and even offers to make some healthy salad crap for Sam.

So, a few days before Thanksgiving, Dean heads to the supermarket. He hasn’t had a vision since leaving Illinois and Sam has finally stopped bitching about Dean being alone or driving. Dean is picking out a bag of lettuce when a cart suddenly bumps into him.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Dean turns around to see a young woman pulling back her cart. “Are you okay?” her eyes widen when she takes a good look at the hunter.

“Yeah, I’m good. No worries.” Dean starts to turn back around when the woman speaks up.

“I’m Brenda, by the way.” The woman smiles.

Dean stares at her momentarily, wondering what she wants. “Dean.”

“Are you from around here, Dean?” she comes around to stand near him and Dean can see she has a nice body, wrapped in a tight white sweater and blue jeans.

“Sort of.”

“Really? That’s cool.” She glances at the two bags that Dean is holding. “I really recommend the Asian salad blend. If you put some honey mustard dressing and mix in some cranberries, it’s amazing.”

“Oh. Yeah, thanks.” Dean puts the other bag back and begins to push his cart away.

“So…” Brenda speaks up again, making Dean stop. She smiles shyly. “I know this is pretty weird to do at a grocery store, but if you aren’t too busy sometime…maybe after the holidays?” It takes a while for Dean to understand where she is going with this and when he does, he just stares. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be like next week or anything. Unless…you have someone already?” She searches his face and then she smiles. “Oh, you do.”

“No…I, uh...” Dean suddenly feels bare.

“I understand.” She smiles softly. “If you’ve been waiting for a good time to tell her, the holidays are usually the best.” She winks and grabs her cart. “Well, sorry to have bothered you. Happy Thanksgiving!” She strolls away into the next aisle out of sight.

What’s up with strangers giving Dean advice? Is he that transparent now? He sighs loudly and finishes his shopping.

It isn’t until he’s putting the groceries in the fridge that he stops and realizes that he just turned down potential sex with a pretty hot woman. He doesn’t even really have to wonder why anymore. The curse tore down his walls and opened up the graves of the thoughts he never hoped to see again. It’s been hard to build them back up. It must be what it was like for Sammy when Cas broke his wall after hell. Except instead of the bad, painful scenes of Dean’s own stint in Hell and Purgatory invading his mind and breaking him down, it’s the cluster of memories and images and wishes and desires concerning the angel.

“Damn…” he mutters. He has prayed to Cas every day since they got back and neither he nor Sam have heard from him. The fact that Dean will admittedly sucks at articulating himself isn’t helping either.

It does give him an idea though and that night, he prays again. “Cas…me again. So, Sammy and I are having a Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday. I know you don’t eat but...well, you’re welcome to join us. If you want. I’d like it. So. Let me know. Yeah?”

\---

After a few curses and lots of coughing, Dean finds the machine among the hundreds of boxes he stored in one of the storage rooms years ago. He lugs it up to his room and shuts the door. He connects it to his record player and sifts through his vinyls and tapes. He spends the rest of the day in his room. By dinner time, he is done and leans back on his chair, smiling as he holds up the tape.

He joins Sam and makes a quick dinner, wolfing it down. Sam looks at him curiously but doesn’t comment. Dean washes the dishes with lightning speed and heads to his room. “Night, Sammy!” he yells out and closes the door.

Dean’s heart is thudding and stuttering as he slides the tape into his portable tape player. He puts on his earphones and sits against the headboard of his bed. He has no idea if this will work and he is now regretting having dinner because the twist in his stomach is threatening to force everything back up. He is suddenly feeling very stupid at what he’s about to do. Not even when he was a teenager did he do this kind of thing. “Jesus, Winchester. This is a whole new level of pansy.” He says to himself.

He wipes his hands on his jeans and mentally pumps himself up. He will not run away anymore. He will man the fuck up. He has to, because the ache in his heart is suffocating him and this has gone on long enough.

He closes his eyes. “Cas, it’s Dean. I obviously suck at this communicating thing and my prayers to you haven’t worked so I thought I’d try something a little different. I hope…shit, I hope you get this. So, um, here goes. Hope you like karaoke.” He pushes play. The powerful riff matches the beat of Dean’s heart and when the vocals start, he sings along.

“He's got a smile that it seems to me…reminds me of childhood memories…”

Dean increases the volume of the music and hums along for a while before singing again.

“Woaahhh ohhh…sweet child o' mine…woahhh oh oh…sweet love of mine…”

Dean is trembling and tries to keep his voice steady. He feels so exposed and vulnerable and he struggles to continue. He’s embarrassed for himself.  _Jesus, this is so stupid._    
  
“He's got eyes of the bluest skies…as if they thought of rain, I'd hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain...”

He lets the rest of the song play, keeping his eyes closed. The next song starts and Dean follows in his Midwestern drawl.

“Hey baby, you got the love I need…maybe more than enough…Oh darling, darling, darling... walk a while with me…Ohhh, you've got so much...so much…so much…”

The song fades and before the next one can start, Dean shuts off the tape.  He can’t continue. He sits still with his eyes closed for several minutes, too afraid. “So…yeah.” He fumbles for words and begins to stutter. “I-I hope you g-got that. Can you stop by for a second? ‘Cause…I, shit, I...need you.” He waits a few more minutes. He inhales and opens his eyes.

His body feels like lead. His eyes rapidly well up with tears as he stares at the empty room.  


	8. Just Want You To Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very long chapter...
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Your lovely comments keep me going. Thank you. :)

Thanksgiving morning is bitterly cold and Sam builds up the fire in the chimney. Most of the day is spent watching Netflix and a few college football games with Dean getting up every once in a while to baste the turkey.

By now, the thought of his absent friend is a constant sharp pain and Dean goes to bed every night with hope but every morning brings a renewed ache. He still tries to be as normal as possible because he doesn’t want to ruin one of the few times the brothers have ever had a chance to celebrate Thanksgiving with more than just a bag of greasy burgers from Mickey Ds.

They have a light lunch, watch some more episodes of Star Trek, and after some convincing, Sam gets Dean to go outside for a quick toss of the pigskin. Dean regrets his decision as soon as the door opens and the biting wind cuts into his face.

“Damnit, it’s friggin’ freezing out here!” Dean zips up his jacket.

“Get over it and throw the ball!”

They start off easy and the repetitive toss and catch is almost therapeutic until Dean’s mind wanders into darker territory and his throws become more aggressive. He dwells on his fuck ups and how he’s been behaving. This sissified version of himself. But then he thinks that maybe he won’t see the angel ever again. How can he stop being such goddamn idiot? If only he had taken a moment to get his head out of his ass.

Sam grunts. “Jesus, Dean! What the hell!” He stares wide eyed at his brother. “What’s eating you?!”

Dean blinks and stares at the ball on the ground, slightly impaled into the mud. “Crap. Sorry Sam. I guess I got too into it.”

“You almost burned the skin off my hands.” Sam reaches down to dredge up the ball from the muck. “You alright?”

“What? Yeah! I’m good. Good. Let’s keep going.” Dean sets his hands out, ready to catch.

Sam wrinkles his forehead but throws the ball. They continue for a while and then Sam glances at his watch. “Hey, I’m getting hungry. We should start setting up.”

“Already? It’s still early.”

“Yeah, but I’m really hungry. That lunch was more like a snack. Plus I think I’m getting frostbite.” Sam breathes into his cupped hands and rubs them together.

“You’re like an incinerator.”

 “Growing boy’s gotta eat.”

“God, if you kept growing I’d sell you to a sideshow circus attraction or paint you green and sign you up to do commercials for canned peas.”

Sam huffs out a laugh. “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

\---

Despite the gnawing emptiness in his chest, Dean feels a little excited about dinner. He outdid himself and he smiles at the countertop full of side dishes – creamy garlic mashed potatoes, green beans with little red potatoes in a sweet onion sauce, fresh spinach salad with slivered almonds, dried cranberries, bacon pieces, and honey mustard dressing, candied yams, roasted corn with extra butter, old-fashioned turkey gravy, apple-sage stuffing, cranberry sauce, sweet rolls, pumpkin pie, and steaming southern-style cornbread.

The smells waft all around the kitchen and Sam seems to almost bounce with anticipation as he starts taking the dishes to the library where they converted one of the study desks into a dining table. Sam even got a nice tablecloth and found some China in storage with delicate green vines around the edges. While Sam takes everything to the library, Dean goes to the oven and takes out the turkey. It smells delicious and Dean licks his lips. He bastes the turkey one last time and Sam comes into take the last two dishes. Dean follows him, holding the turkey steady.

“This is going to be the best freakin’ turkey ever, Sammy. I should be the next Paula Deen.”

Sam laughs. “Yeah, you probably already use more butter than her anyway.”

“Hey, butter is the thread in the fabric of our society.”

“Butter is also a heart attack wrapped in tin foil.”

“You’re just grumpy because you eat depressing salads and drink crappy health drinks.”

“At least I won’t die of coronary heart disease at 30.” teases Sam.

“If I die of a butter induced coma, then I’ll die a happy man.”

There’s a woosh as the men enter the library and Dean hears him before he sees him.

“It is very unlikely that you will die of a butter overdose, Dean. But I do worry about your health sometimes.”

Dean almost stumbles with shock. He catches himself and gapes at the angel leaning casually against the wall near the table with his arms folded. The angel disappears and appears in front of him in a blink, grabbing the slipping turkey pan from Dean’s hands and setting it on the table.

“Cas.” Dean breathes.

Sam looks cautiously at his brother and puts the dishes down. “Uh…Surprise? Listen, Dean, before you get mad, I invited him a while back. I wasn’t sure if he was going to make it but-”

Dean doesn’t really hear the rest over the rushing blood cresting through him. The angel and the hunter stare at each other for a long time. Dean still stunned and Cas with a tiny smile on his lips and his eyes alight.

“Guys?” Sam coughs awkwardly after a moment.

“The food looks very appetizing.” Cas looks at the table, finally breaking eye contact and Dean can think again.

“You gonna stay for dinner?” Dean asks nervously with a tingling hope that warms his entire body. His angel is here. It somehow feels like it has been months since he last saw him and his happiness is threatening to explode from his every pore. Oh god, he is such a teenage girl right now.

“Yes, if that’s okay with you.” Cas glances back at Dean.

“Yeah! I mean, yeah, of course. You’re family.” Dean can’t help his ridiculously wide smile. Sam looks relieved as he moves to sit down and Cas sits across from him. Dean takes the seat at the head of the table, his goofy grin never fading.

At first there is nothing but the clink and clatter of the men filling their plates and passing dishes around. Once they are all satisfied with their portions, Dean gets up and gets the knife and fork to cut the turkey. He leans forward and begins slicing. He looks up and Cas’ eyes are on him, locking his stare in place.

There is suddenly a sharp pain against the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. He looks down to see a gash quickly beading with blood.

“Crap.” He lets go of the knife and brings his hand close to his chest so he won’t ruin the turkey. He doesn’t even realize Cas moved until he feels a soft, warm, strong hand grip his own. Cas brings it up to his lips and kisses the wound, healing it. Dean’s heart skips around wildly at the sweet press of the angel’s mouth against his skin. He happens to glance over at Sam and quickly pulls back his hand. “Er…thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Dean.” Cas remains stoic and sits back down as if what just happened is an everyday occurrence.

Sam’s eyebrows almost reach his hairline and his mouth hangs open. “Um. Yeah. That’s…not awkward at all.”

“Yeah, angels…no sense of personal space.” Dean mutters, his face hot. Cas squints at him and Dean busies himself with passing out the turkey. He can still feel a tingle on his hand where Cas kissed it and he closes it slightly. “Let’s eat, huh?”

Sam looks at Cas and then at Dean. “Yeah…”

The uncomfortable silence fortunately doesn’t last long as the beer begins to flow. Dean’s nerves are soothed and everything feels like it was before.

They talk about hunting and tell crazy stories. Dean tells a few jokes, some of which go right over Cas’ head, but not all, which is surprising. Equally surprisingly, Cas tells one and when he gets to the punchline of ‘orange you glad I didn’t say banana’, Dean roars with laughter only because it is one of the oldest and cheesiest jokes ever and of course Cas thinks it’s funny. Nevertheless, Cas looks pleased and that only makes Dean smile more.

The men stuff themselves to the brink. Cas even tries the food, though most of it he claims tastes like molecules. He does seem to like the pumpkin pie though and Dean serves him several slices, adding extra whipped cream when he sees the way Cas licks his lips each time he gets some on his mouth.

After almost two hours of eating and talking, Sam leans back in his chair to stretch. “Man, I’m going into a food coma.”

“Dude, I’ve got a food baby.” Dean rubs his stomach and groans.

Cas starts and peers at Dean. “You are male, you cannot get pregnant, Dean.”

Dean grins. “It’s just an expression, Cas. I don’t actually have a baby inside me. It just looks like I do ‘cause I ate so much. See?” Dean lifts up his shirt and shows his slightly round belly.

Cas looks. “I see.”

Dean drops his shirt and isn’t blind to the way Cas keeps staring at his stomach. “Yeah, just an expression.”

Sam gets up. “We should clean up before we all pass out.”

The three men bustle between the library and the kitchen. There is a moment when only Dean and Cas are in the kitchen, placing the dishes into the long sink. Dean takes the chance to steal a glance at the angel and not surprisingly, Cas is looking back. Dean turns to face him properly.

“I prayed to you.”

“I heard.”

“Oh. Are you still mad at me for being a dickbag?”

Cas doesn’t respond, instead his hand slips around Dean’s waist. Dean leans closer without thinking.

“Hey guys, I think I’m going to go take a nap!” Sam says loudly from the library. Dean tries to back away from Cas but the angel grips his waist tightly. “You guys going to be okay?”

“Yeah, we’re good!” Dean glances worriedly at the entrance to the kitchen.

“Alright, wake me up for the Michigan game!”

Before Dean can respond, his words are swallowed by Cas’ lips.

\---

Despite the rapid-fire beat of his heart, Dean feels like he’s suspended in mid-air – calm. Content.

The angel deepens the kiss and his other hand trails slowly up Dean’s back, eliciting a shiver. Cas stops at Dean’s shoulder blades and pushes Dean against him, their lips and tongues pressing together softly. Dean almost moans at the sweet touch. He has been craving it, dreaming about it for so long. He dreamed of what he would do if he saw Cas again, of all the things he would say. He’d apologize properly and figure it all out, somehow. But now that Cas is here, all of Dean’s plans get lost in the heat permeating his body from head to toe.

But soon enough, like clockwork, annoying, fearful thoughts begin to prod at Dean and his courage begins to flounder. What is he doing? He’s a hunter and he’s kissing a guy and he’s enjoying it. What would dad think? Or Bobby? Or Sam? The hunting community? Oh my god. He has a reputation to maintain. And his sanity to save.

Almost as if Cas is reading his mind, he grabs the hunter and pushes him back against the sink. The angel grips his shoulders and pulls away slightly from kissing him. Dean opens his eyes to see a mix of desire and anger staring back.

“Did you mean it?” Cas asks, hardness creeping into his face.

“Mean what?” Dean breathes.

“You prayed to me every night.” Cas doesn’t elaborate.

“Yeah. I…want to talk.” Dean casts his eyes down and focuses on Cas’ tie. “I mean, this…what’s going on between us. I don’t know what it is or how to handle it, man. But I…need to figure it out.”

“I love you.”

Dean’s eyes fly up to meet Cas’ at the random declaration. “W-what?”

 “I already told you before. I love you, Dean.”

“Y-yeah but…”

Cas squeezes his shoulders. “No. There are no conditions or terms. There never have been.”

“Why? Cas, you know I’m a guy right? It’s…” Dean squirms and his eyes move back down again. “I’m not gay but…I can’t…You did something to me. I don’t know if it was something that happened in hell or what, but I…this…I don’t know. And now with the visions…” Dean feels like a moron. He had planned this so well in his head. He thought he had finally figured everything out. He was going to say everything he felt and what? They’d ride into the sunset together? Geez.

The grip on his shoulders relaxes. “Have you been experiencing more visions? I have remained alert but I haven’t detected anything. Are you okay?” The deep concern in Cas’ eyes makes Dean realize what a jackass he really has been to his friend; even now, after everything, Dean can’t get a damn grip on himself. He thinks on how happy he was before he kept sabotaging himself, over and over. And maybe he doesn’t deserve to be this happy, maybe he doesn’t deserve this angel, but he is going to stop being an idiot and stop looking a gift horse in the mouth. He’ll be damned if he’s going to let this peace, this calm go again.

“No, Cas. I’m good.” Dean cautiously and slowly slides his hands inside Cas’ trenchcoat and jacket, smoothing them against his taught and firm hips. Cas looks surprised and Dean smiles a little. “You know what? Fuck it.” He kisses Cas quickly and his head buzzes pleasantly. “I’m done.”

“Done with that?” Cas inches his face toward Dean.

“Trying to make myself miserable. I have too many regrets already and I don’t want this to be one of them.” He kisses him briefly again, his courage building up. “I’m sorry, Cas. For everything. The visions might’ve messed me up and maybe turned me into a new age touchy feely hippie, but…but I…that’s not an excuse for acting like a douchebag.” Dean turns a little red and tries to hide it by kissing Cas again. Cas kisses back and Dean relishes the sweetness of his tender lips. Dean doesn’t even care how gay they must look right now. He’s too happy to care about anything.

Dean doesn’t notice his eyelids start to droop until Cas calls his name.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?” Dean blinks. He was falling asleep on his angel. “Crap. Sorry…” He stifles a yawn. He should be full of adrenaline and excitement now but his body is telling him otherwise.

Cas moves to hold him tighter and they are suddenly in Dean’s room. “You should rest. It seems your overconsumption has led to extreme postprandial somnolence.”

Dean looks up at him, his eyes getting heavy again. “Huh?”

“I believe Sam called it ‘food coma’.” Cas shifts and with one hand around his waist, carries Dean to his bed. He sits him down gently.

“But I don’t want to rest, Cas. I want to…I want to stay with you.” Dean blushes self-consciously. Just because he was finally able to kiss the angel without running away doesn’t mean this emotional girly crap was any easier.

“I can watch over you.”

“No. That’s creepy.” Dean frowns. “I know you don’t sleep. But you could…I dunno…”

“Would you like me to join you?” Cas asks, a slight tilt to his head.

“Yeah…if you want.” Dean peeks up at the angel and takes a deep breath. “I’d like that.”

Without a word, Cas gently pushes Dean down to lie on his back on the bed and he removes his trenchcoat. Dean suddenly isn’t that sleepy anymore as he watches the angel take off his jacket next. Thankfully, Cas leaves the rest of his clothes on and toes off his shoes before lying down next to Dean. They stare at each other and Dean tentatively moves the hand that is grazing against Cas’ and entwines their fingers together. Dean wonders if Cas can hear the pounding of his heart and veins with his super hearing. Cas turns onto his side and Dean does the same so they are facing each other. Cas brings up their wrapped hands and tenderly kisses Dean’s knuckles one by one. Dean’s hand twitches and his first instinct is to pull it away but he forces himself to calm down and closes his eyes instead. He isn’t used to this kind of tenderness and devotion and it is hard to endure.

“Sleep, Dean.” Cas whispers and he gently pushes Dean’s hair back with his other hand.   

Dean feels so warm. His body sinks into the mattress and just as he is about to go under, he squeezes the angel’s hand and mumbles something that sounds like ‘ _love you…’_

\---

The soft glow of his bedside lamp washes over his closed eyes as he comes into consciousness. His hand feels warm and there is a tickling sensation against his ribs, making him smile.

“Your body seems prone to gargalesis.” Comes a pebbly, low voice.

Dean snaps his eyes open and almost falls out of the bed when he meets two curious shining blue eyes. “Aah!”

“Hello, Dean.” The angel keeps their hands together and his other hand smoothes down Dean’s ribs and rests on his waist.

“Cas…” Dean smiles wide. His angel was here after all. It wasn’t a dream. Dean stretches and yawns. “How long did I sleep? Were you here the whole time?”

“23 minutes and yes, I stayed.” Cas gives a little smile and even in his new girly state, Dean would never in his life admit that it kind of makes him want to melt.

“Hold on.” Dean rolls away and sits up. “Gotta use the can.” He gets off the bed and stretches.

“I do not miss that aspect of being human.” Cas replies.

Dean smirks. “Yeah, being human can be a pain sometimes.” Feeling bold, he leans down and kisses Cas before going to the bathroom. As he’s washing up, he looks up and notices he still has a goofy ass grin on his face. He feels so warm and calm. He chuckles. “Heh.”

When he walks back into the room, he sees Cas sitting on the edge of the bed and fiddling with his tape player.

Cas looks up. “This doesn’t work.”

Dean sits next to him and takes the tape player from him. “You need to plug in the headphones.” He opens the tape player. “Also, you need to put a tape in.”

“I’d like to listen to the one you played a few nights ago. With the man singing in a high voice.”

“So you did hear it?” Dean isn’t sure he’s happy about that. That experience was a bit mortifying when he thinks about it.

“Yes, though only some of it. Thought prayers are difficult to concentrate on when layered over other voices.”

 “Well…you can listen to it later. Like alone. It’s kind of…um…er...”  Cas just stares at him. “Cas, it’s embarrassing. I was kind of desperate.”

 “I’d like to listen to it, Dean.” Cas responds, unfazed by Dean’s uneasiness.

Dean stares at him before cursing aloud. “Damn it.” He reaches into his side table drawer and pulls out the tape. It has ‘Cas’ scribbled on the label in slightly blocky letters. He takes the tape player from Cas’ hands and puts the tape in. He rewinds it to the beginning and plugs in his earphones. He hands them to Cas. “Here, put these in your ears.”

Cas takes one earbud and puts it in, but leaves the other dangling. “Aren’t you going to listen with me?”

Dean groans. This is starting to look like a bad teen movie. He sighs and puts the ear bud into his ear. Cas leans closer. Dean pushes play. When Axl starts to sing, Cas looks up at Dean expectantly. Dean frowns. “What?”

“You’re not singing.”

“You…you already heard me sing. If you remember, I’m not good at karaoke.”

“I enjoyed it.” Cas seems to be developing some kind of puppy look because Dean is having a hard time opening his mouth to refuse. God, that’s what happens when people hang around Sam too long.

“You owe me.” He mutters. Dean starts to sing softly and Cas’ eyes never leave him, his gaze unnerving. Dean stumbles through the first two songs, mumbling or going silent often. He avoids looking at Cas.

Dean pauses the tape before the next song begins. “Um, this next one isn’t actually from my collection. I stole it from Sam’s ipod once a long time ago, uh, kind of a guilty pleasure…but this song is…I like it and well...” Dean clicks play again and this time a fast drum beat followed by a high riff resonates through the headphones. Dean doesn’t sing until a few lines in, trying to build up the courage.

_“I want your love…Let's break the walls between us…”_

Dean pauses, feeling himself get breathless and closes his eyes. 

_“Enough's enough I've suffered and I've seen the light…Baby…You're my angel…Come and save me tonight…_

Dean tries to sing the rest but his nerves overwhelm him and all he can do is let the song play. His throat closes up and he feels warm all over with embarrassment as he opens his eyes. There’s a shift in the bed and then Cas is kissing his cheek, across his jaw, his lips, down his throat, softly, gently, barely a whispering touch. The earbuds fall out of their ears and the tape player tumbles onto the bed, the song still audible.

“Cas…” Dean is momentarily stunned but regains his composure quickly. He kisses his angel in return and his hands move to the sides of his neck, holding him steady. He pulls back. “I…I…” He curls his hands through Cas’ hair.

“Me too.”

Dean pulls both of them down, Cas on top of him, and his back on the bed, his feet still on the ground. He runs his hands down Cas’ neck again and they kiss deeply. Dean feels like he’s floating again. All his emotions, all his sensations are laser focused on Cas. The odd thing is, he’s not even thinking about sex. He’s just enjoying the closeness of his friend, his touch and his warmth. Dean wants to laugh and he grins against Cas’ lips.

“What is it, Dean?” Cas asks curiously as he lifts his head up.

“I feel like such a girl. All I want to do is be close to you.”

“That’s not a strictly female sentiment. I wish to be close to you as well.”

“Hmm. But you’re an angel, it doesn’t count. I’m glad you’re here, Cas. I’ve missed you.” Dean smiles. He feels a lightning bolt through his chest and his heart is still racing. He never imagined this would happen. He is deliriously happy. Dean kisses him again and they get so lost in each other that they both jump when Sam pounds on Dean’s door.

“Dean? You up? The game’s about to start! Also, I think Cas left. Please tell me you guys didn’t fight again because it’s getting really old!”

“No, we didn’t fight, Sam.” Cas calls out to Dean’s horror.

“Cas?” Sam asks through the door.

“What the frigging hell, man?!” Dean hisses at Cas. He scrambles to get out from underneath the angel and he falls to the floor.

“Dean?” Sam opens the door to see his brother getting off the floor and Cas sitting up on his knees on the bed. “Uh…”

“We were just listening to music. I dropped the tape player.” Dean says lamely, turning off his walkman and holding it up.

Sam’s face reveals nothing. He nods once. “I’ve set up my laptop in my room for the game if you guys want to watch.”

“Yeah, I’ll make some popcorn.” Dean says.

“Okay…” Sam says cautiously and leaves.

Dean lets out a sigh of relief and turns to the angel, who looks like nothing bothers him, which it probably doesn’t. “Okay, ground rules. If we’re…uh…doing stuff, and someone comes by or whatever, you don’t friggin’ talk!” He says in a yelling whisper.

Cas gets off the bed. “Why?”

“Because two dudes in a room with the door closed sends a lot of mixed signals! They’ll think we’re doing something!”

“But we were doing something.”

“Yeah, but they don’t have to know about it, Cas!”

“Why?”

“Be-because…because!”

Cas comes to stand in front of him and suddenly grabs his upper arms. “No.” And he kisses him, his tongue sliding gently against Dean’s lips until Dean opens up and lets him in. Cas steps in closer and his upper thigh rubs hard against Dean’s crotch as they continue to kiss. So much for not thinking about sex.

“Son of a…” gasps Dean.

“I’ll be in Sam’s room.” Cas lets him go and walks out, leaving Dean dazed.

 ---

Dean starts the microwave and leans against the small table and lets out a shaky breath. There is a swirl of emotions going through him. Elation, contentment, a happy tightness in his chest, joy at his friend’s return mixed with nervousness and fear at what will happen now. What _will_ happen now? Dean has spent the last few weeks only thinking about wanting to see Cas, but he actually gave little thought to what would happen after he apologized.

Plus there’s the slight case of blue balls he has to deal with now. He bows his head and mutters under his breath. The beeping of the microwave pulls him from his thoughts and he begins to look for a bowl in the tall rack on the other side of the kitchen. He crouches down to get one that’s wedged in between big spice containers.

There is no sound or movement that makes him look over his shoulder, just a feeling. There at the breakfast table is Cas, sitting on one of the low stools attached to it. His eyes are roaming over Dean, particularly focused on his ass.

Dean’s face heats up when he catches his eye and goes to get up when he notices that one of Cas’ hands isn’t on top of the table and his arm seems to be…twitching. Dean moves his eyes down to look underneath and a gasp escapes his lips.

Cas’ hand is curled around his thick cock and he is stroking it slowly. His eyes burning now into Dean’s.

Dean sits down on the cold floor with a thump, no longer able to keep himself in a crouching position. He can’t seem to look away from Cas’ red, hard dick. Holy shit. His angel is a kinky motherfucker. After a few attempts at speaking, he manages to croak out “Cas…thought you were gonna be in Sam’s room.”

“You were taking too long. I came to see what you were doing. ” Cas replies in a husky voice, his strokes continuing. “I’m glad I did.”

Dean doesn’t notice that he’s gripping the edges of the metal bowl until the steel begins to embed itself in his hands. His breathing is short and labored. He sees a drop of come ooze out of the slit of Cas’ cock and it trickles down the head and over his fingers. For some reason the idea of licking that drop off is extremely enticing. He sucks in his lower lip.

Cas groans and Dean looks back up at him. Cas’ eyes are closed now and he’s leaning slightly away from the table, his fingers still pumping his cock. Dean’s inhibitions drop away to be replaced with a heated need.  He slowly gets up and walks over to the angel. Cas snaps his eyes open as Dean approaches. They lock their gazes. Dean gets on his knees in front of him and twists the seat around so that Cas is facing him. He pulls Cas’ legs apart and scoots in closer. His hand wraps around the one Cas has wrapped around his dick.  Dean leans in and he breathes gently over the throbbing head. Cas makes a small gasping sound and that urges Dean forward. His green eyes are dark and dilated, his lips red and full, and his pink, wet tongue slips out and ever so gently and softly, licks at the dribbling pre-come on the head and up the slit. Cas shivers and his hooded eyes blaze with lust and pleasure as he looks down at the hunter. Cas’ other hand clenches on his lap and Dean lifts it up and guides it to rest on the back of his head, urging Cas to take hold of him. Cas does and he soon grips him tighter, pushing him slightly forward. Still looking at Cas, Dean places his lips on the tip of the head and gives a little suckle. Cas’ mouth opens slightly and his eyes widen.

“Dean.” The angel manages to rasp out between breaths.

Dean never imagined he’d enjoy sucking dick but seeing his angel becoming undone sends a fire through him. His own erection is straining against his jeans and he cups himself, rubbing at his length through the fabric. “Shit…”

The hunter licks his lips and swirls his tongue underneath the head which makes Cas gasp again, a tremor going through him. The hunter licks again and he smirks at how Cas seems to be losing himself. In turn, that makes him harder and he keeps rubbing himself slowly, but not enough to get off just yet. He places his lips over the tip again and this time he takes the entire head into his mouth, sucking hard. Cas stiffens and suddenly Dean feels hot sticky spurts on his tongue. He coughs a little as the unexpected liquid hits the roof of his mouth but manages to continue sucking, swallowing the come in big gulps.

When Cas finishes, Dean leans back and licks his lips, grinning. “We’re going to have to work on your stamina.”

Cas’ eyes are large and he looks mildly embarrassed as he pants to catch his breath. “I apologize Dean…I didn’t…That was unexpected.”

Dean stands up and cups the angel’s cheek. “That just means we get to keep practicing.” He kisses him softly but as he goes to pull away, Cas stops him, gripping his hand.

“You taste like my semen.” He says, his eyes dark again.

Dean splutters. “Damn, Cas, that’s not something you say aloud.” But it’s very hot, nonetheless.

Cas stands up and kisses Dean, hungrily seeking entrance into his mouth. He licks at Dean’s lips, sweeps the inside of his mouth, searching for his own flavor mixed in with the taste of Dean’s mouth. Dean groans at the invasion and he clutches at Cas’ clothes. Suddenly he feels himself being lifted and he is sitting on the warm wooden table. He makes a surprised sound against Cas’ lips as he feels the angel grip his ass with both hands.  He opens his legs and Cas steps up tightly against him. Cas’ left hand snakes around to the front to smooth over his upper thigh. Without warning, he grabs Dean’s cock through his jeans and Dean yelps. “Ah!” Dean leans his head against the angel’s shoulder to ground himself.

When Cas starts to stroke him slowly, Dean is reminded of the time when Cas jerked him off in Illinois. The memory fuels his lust and he pushes his hips forward. Cas goes to unzip his jeans, kissing up his neck.

The lumbering steps down the stairs adjoining the kitchen make Dean freeze. He blinks and Cas is gone. His brother, who seems to be a cockblocking extraordinaire at this point, appears at the entrance and Dean just narrowly prevents him from seeing his erection by placing the metal bowl on his lap. This is getting old, he thinks as he tries to compose himself. He knows he’s flushed and tries to steady his breathing.

“Dude, what’s taking so long? The game’s already started, it’s almost halftime.” Sam merely glances at his brother as he heads to one of the iceboxes on the wall, pulling out a beer.

“I’ll be right up. Was just, uh, looking for a bowl.” He manages to sound fairly calm and collected.

“Alright, hurry up. I’m getting hungry again.” Sam looks through another icebox and pulls out the leftover turkey to make a quick sandwich.

“Yeah, yeah, alright, calm down Samsquatch.”

Sam finishes making his snack and stares at his brother expectantly. “Aren’t you going to get the popcorn?”

“Still hot.” Dean grimaces internally. Not his best cover up.

“Right.” Sam grabs his plate and heads back up the stairs. “Weirdo.”

Dean jumps off the table and stares at his still obvious bulge. “Goddamn it, Cas.”

\---

The next 45 minutes seem to be the longest 45 minutes of Dean’s life. Cas had already been back in Sam’s room, sitting in a chair in the corner, reading a book without a care in the world. Dean decides to sit on the other side of the bed next to his brother. The further the better.  That doesn’t mean his thoughts don’t consistently go back to tonight’s earlier events, making his dick twitch.

He barely pays attention to the game and when their team wins, he doesn’t even notice. Sam snaps the laptop close and shifts off the bed, bringing Dean out of his increasingly dirty stream of thoughts.

“Alright, I’m beat, guys. Happy Thanksgiving.”

Dean rolls off the bed and pretends to stretch while sneaking a glance at Cas who is now standing and staring at him. “Same here.” He walks to the door. “Happy Thanksgiving. Night, Sammy. Uh, see you later, Cas.”

“Good night, Sam. Good night, Dean.” Cas says, his gaze lingering a little longer on Dean before he disappears.

The brothers blink and then shake their heads. Dean walks back to his room, yawning loudly, and locks the door. Cas is sitting on his bed, listening to the tape player.

Dean doesn’t move and Cas looks up at him, a small smile playing at his lips. “I’m really enjoying this music.”

Dean shifts his eyes away, still feeling pretty embarrassed about the tape. “That’s good.”

Cas takes the earbuds out of his ears and sets the tape player on the table. He gets up and pulls back the covers on the bed before looking back up at Dean. “Will you be going to sleep now?”

“Oh. Yeah.” The idea makes Dean yawn. He really is tired after such a long day, but a part of him, a part very low on his anatomy, really wants to finish what they had started in the kitchen. He inhales and makes his way over to the bed. He removes his button up shirt and pulls off his t-shirt to reveal his bare chest. He knows Cas is looking at him, feeling the intensity of his stare, but Dean keeps his gaze down. He pauses briefly at the button of his jeans and swallows. He pops off the button and unzips his jeans. He’s already half hard and as he pulls his jeans down, he hears Cas take in a harsh breath. Finally, he steps out of his jeans and stands there only in his dark grey boxer briefs. He makes himself look up and sees that Cas is just as interested as he is, his eyes seemingly blazing with blue fire. This gives him a little more courage and he slides under the covers to rest on his side. Once again, he feels like an awkward teenager about to get his cherry popped – this is all still so new to him. He’s annoyed at how anxious he is but it’s also exciting.

Cas removes his clothes as well, leaving his undershirt and boxers on. Dean watches as he slips into bed and his heart thumps hard in his chest. Cas doesn’t waste any time and slides his hand down Dean’s firm, tan chest. It’s a bit unnerving how easily a simple touch from the angel arouses him. Cas’ other hand curls around his hip and his thumb massages circles into the indention there. Without any fanfare, Cas pulls Dean’s boxers down and grips his now hard length. Dean lets out a little gasp. There is enough pre-come on the tip to make the stroking slick and easy. As Cas pumps away, he leans forward and nips at Dean’s collarbone. He bends down and smoothes his tongue down Dean’s chest, finding a nipple and pulling at it between his teeth. This makes Dean choke. “Oh! God…Jesus…”

“I’d appreciate if you kept my father out of this.” Cas whispers.

Dean’s brain begins to get hazy, a mix of arousal and exhaustion. Cas licks at his nipple gently, taking his time and making it wet. Dean can’t help his moans and he bucks his hips forward, wanting more friction. Cas speeds up his hand and he sweeps his tongue over to Dean’s other nipple, biting it softly before slicking his tongue over the tip with tiny licks that send tremors down Dean’s spine.

Despite his fatigue, Dean feels a heat deep from within, hotter than his lust for the angel. It’s an expanding emotion that threatens to overwhelm him. He almost can’t believe they are here now, together. He looks at his angel who is looking back and he sees the devotion and affection in his eyes. The connection between them is so strong that Dean wonders momentarily if he could ever live without the angel. He doesn’t want to think about it, instead he lets himself be overtaken by his emotions and the delicious sensations pulsing through his body at Cas’ touch. Cas’ slows his strokes but tightens his hold. He kisses up Dean’s neck again and finds his lips. He kisses him sweetly, gently, and somehow, the gesture sends Dean over the edge. He stills and unloads all over Cas’ hand and the sheets, moaning and breathing hard.

The angel removes his hand and must have angel-mojo’d the mess away because he brings it up clean to stroke Dean’s cheek. Dean pants and stares at him, his eyelids already drooping from the post-orgasm induced drowsiness and his own tiredness from the day. Cas pulls him close and wraps his arms around his waist. Dean fights his sleepiness a little longer to look up at the angel. His angel. He feels love. He feels _peace_.

\---

The next morning, Dean’s eyes feel gummy as he awakens and he struggles open them. All his strength is gone.

 “Seriously, he’s been out for way too long! Nothing seems to work!” yells a slightly high female voice.

“Oh, he’s fine.” Says a familiar male voice dismissively.

With a sinking feeling, Dean realizes he’s strapped to a chair but at least wherever he is, it’s warm. Dean forces his eyelids to open ever so slightly. All he can see are flickering shadows.

“He’s waking up!” says the female voice.

“See, what did I tell you?” says the man.

“Oh, shut up.”

A slender face framed by golden brown ringlets comes into view. Dean’s eyes are still adjusting and he can’t make out the features, but he knows it’s a woman. He tries to speak but his tongue feels like dried cement.

 “You with us here, sport?” Comes the male voice, sounding closer now. Another face gets in his line of sight and Dean blinks heavily, trying to clear the graininess and fog.

Dean frowns. He knows that voice. He scrunches his eyes closed with as much strength as he can and blinks them open again. The haze clears. Dean stops breathing.

“Good to have you back, sleeping beauty.”

 

 

_Don._

 


	9. Fieri Infragilis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being too cliche or obvious in this chapter. I run out of steam sometimes. Thank you for sticking with me!
> 
> Comments and critique always welcome.

Dean’s stomach roils as the walls wobble and shift into place.

The woman peering at him puts a cold hand towel briefly over his forehead and eyes. “Ugh, he looks like a dying fish. I should get him some water.” She says with slight unease. No, not just a woman.  A witch.   _Maggie_.

“Well, he has been asleep for a while. I guess we should’ve gotten him an IV or tube fed him.” Don muses.

“Ew, don’t be gross.” Maggie shouts from the kitchen. “Besides, if you hadn’t screwed this up, we would’ve been able to do this much faster.”

“I already told you, it was an honest mistake.”

Maggie comes back with a glass of water and a straw, placing it against Dean’s lips. Dean wants to refuse but his head aches and his throat feels raw. It seems to take all his strength to open his mouth. He slowly drinks half the glass before he has to take a labored breath. The water does little to ease his thirst or the rawness. He takes a moment to look around. He’s in a large elegant suite and there’s a fire going in the chimney. Everything is lavish and expensive, definitely a high end hotel.  
  
Don shoves his hands in his slacks pockets and looks casually at the hunter. “So Dean, how was the trip?”

Dean tries to work his mouth but it’s still too dry. Instead he does his best to contort his face into a glare.

“Don’t be an ass, Don. The guy probably has permanent damage to his vocal chords now.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll give him something.” Don goes to a side table and grabs a small bottle with a brown liquid. He comes back, grabs Dean’s head, and tilts it up. Dean doesn’t have the energy to struggle but he clamps his mouth down as tight as he can. “Open up. It’ll help your throat.”

Dean keeps his mouth shut and continues to glare at Don.

“Oh, for the love of…” Don grabs the sides of Dean’s jaw with one hand and pries it open, squeezing tightly against the hinges. He quickly pours the liquid down his throat and presses his hand over his mouth and nose. Dean tries to push the liquid out but eventually he reflexively swallows from lack of air. The liquid is ice cold and he feels it travel down his esophagus in a cool soothing wave. Don lets him go and steps back. “Better?”

Dean wiggles his jaw a little and licks his lips “You son of a bitch…” he rasps out, making his throat ache. “What…did you do…where’s Sam…”

 Don looks over at his wife. “Hon, you wanna take this?”

Maggie glares at him. “What do you think?”

“Okay, okay.” He sighs and looks back at Dean. “Sam and the angel followed our trail for a bit and pounced on some poor sap I put a spell on to look like me.  I don’t even want to imagine what they did to him before they figured out they had the wrong guy. Good thing Maggie thought of it.” He smiles warmly at his wife. “She always was the brains of this relationship.”

“Don’t you know it.” Says Maggie, not lifting her gaze from some files on a desk.

“Anyway, after I got you, I—“

“I don’t give a crap how you got me. What did you do to me!? I feel like I’ve been tripping on acid for months!” Dean growls.

“Ah, yes, well after I knocked you out at the club, I injected you with a potion…which _might_ have been a tad too strong.” Dean just stares, not understanding.  Don grimaces. “The potion was supposed to give you hallucinations and make you easily influenced. At least give me enough time to work.  Turns out I might have fudged on the ingredients…” He sighs again, his expression shifting to a bit of guilt. “Which ended up knocking you out and screwing with your sense of reality.”

“You…” Dean coughs and winces from the pain in his throat. “You…fuckin’ Inception’d me?!”

“Not on purpose.” Don moves his hand as if waving the idea away. “Anyway, you seemed to be enjoying it at times. I couldn’t keep track of you after your brother took you, but I’ve watched you for the past few days. You’re really messed up, you know that? I mean, yes, I drugged you but the hallucinations are borne out of your own mind. Ever consider seeing someone about your issues?” Don actually looks like he’s a little concerned.

Dean’s head buzzes and he tries to make sense of everything. “Maggie…she’s alive.” He croaks out. He tries to lift his head and look at the woman. “You were dead…”

Maggie looks up from where she is sifting through a binder full of what looks like financial reports. “Was I?” The witch winks at Dean. “No, I’m alive and well now.”

Don quickly chimes in. “I guess djinn blood affects everyone differently. You yelled at a lot…and screamed. It was only in the last hour that you seemed to calm down. We figured you’d wake up soon. You mumbled a little too… A lot of things about Castiel.”

The name triggers something inside and Dean growls, the sound coming out rough and animalistic from his damaged throat. “You motherfucker!”

“Woah, woah, I didn’t know the blood was from the alpha! I don’t think the guy who gave it to me even knew, really. You’re okay now. And hey, it didn’t kill you, doesn’t that count for something?”

Dean begins to heave, unable to catch his breath, as it all starts to come together. Everything with Cas…Everything that happened…wasn’t real. None of it.

It wasn’t real.

His heart clenches. His vision begins to grow dark and he feels himself slipping, welcoming the respite to his pain, physical and mental.

“Hey!” He feels hands on his cheeks. “He’s blacking out. Get the dragonwort.”

“Damn it, Don. This is going to make the whole place stink!”

Dean hears a small pop and then his nostrils are hit with an onslaught of rot and garbage. He gags and coughs.

Maggie covers her nose. “Jesus, hurry up and close it. I’m about to vomit.”

Dean’s vision is warped and he tries to blink a few times. He feels hot moisture run down his cheeks. He bows his head from exhaustion and lets the tears flow, the pain seeming to rip him apart and making him wish the blackness had overcome him.

“Um. Well.” Don shuffles his feet. “The good news now is that we got what we needed and we can let you go. But…well, we’ll have to take you somewhere else first. Can’t have you coming after us, you understand.” He pauses. “Listen, Dean…just so you know, I didn’t mean for things to go this way. We like you boys, but I needed you.” Don hastily adds “And we can’t let you get Lily. She has to answer for what she’s done but we’re handling it.”

Maggie scoffs. “Yeah, you say that every year, Don, but now look what happened when we tried to step in and she’s still running around out there like a lunatic, bringing wayyy too much attention to herself, which isn’t a surprise considering…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Don looks over at Maggie.

“Well, she is your niece.” She puts her hands on her hips.

“Oh, here we go again…Really, Maggie? Like your side of the family is so damn perfect.”

“At least we don’t go embarrassing the whole community by casting childish spells. She’s the reason we’re in this mess and you can’t even do magic! She almost k--” Maggie cuts herself off.

Don looks nervously at Dean before looking back to Maggie. “I fixed that! She’s only 19! She’s still learning!”

“Right, there’s always an excuse when your family screws things up!”

Their argument fades away into the background, overtaken by a steadily louder, thumping beat in Dean’s ears. All that misery and all that joy… were just visions. Figments of his imagination. Cas’ lips and his warmth and his _love_.

Something shifts inside him, like tectonic plates.

Dean’s head snaps up and a roar-like yell tears out of his throat. The couple stops bickering and looks at him with alarm.

Dean speaks low and emotionless. “Listen to me, you sons of bitches. You better run. Run and enjoy the time you have left. Because when I get out of here, make no mistake, I will find you. I promise you that. And the last thing you will ever see is this face and these eyes as I carve you up in ways you could never even imagine. Believe me, I’ve picked up more than a few tricks. The suffering…oh, it will leave you begging… _pleading_ that I kill you.” A smile eases onto his face, his eyes devoid of light. “And I will show no mercy except this - _run_.”

Don looks a little pale and Maggie stares wide eye. Don doesn’t say a word as he grabs a dark cloth sack and slips it over Dean’s head. Dean hears their footsteps as they walk away into another corner of the room.

“What the hell, Don, you really messed him up! He’s crazy! What are we supposed to do now?!” Maggie whispers angrily.   
  
“I can’t fix it now, Maggie! So shut up!” Don whispers back.   
  
“Maybe we should just keep him with us.”

Don scoffs. “Yeah, that’s a wonderful idea. Then we’ll have his Paul Bunyan brother come after us and who knows how many other hick hunters.”  
  
“You heard him! They’re going to come after us either way.”  
  
“Well, obviously we can’t kill him and continuing to kidnap him will be ten times worse. You know how these Winchesters are. Sam will never give up. At least if we let Dean go, we have a chance. You said so yourself, he’s pretty damaged now.”

“Well, we need to get rid of him as soon as possible. He’s giving me the creeps.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll take him.”

A pair of footsteps come closer. Dean sits still with the cloth covering his head. “Sammy is a great hunter and everything, but he’s still…pure. Hell was a learning experience for me. Sam didn’t do the… _things_ I did.” His voice takes on a curious lilt, as if he’s smiling under the cloth bag. “I know plenty now. Did you know that you can remove just about every organ in someone’s body without killing them? You can just lay them all out there on the table beside them.”

Don sounds a little desperate and frightened, his voice getting higher. “Dean… Look, I wish I could help but spells that deal with such deep psychological alteration are very hard, even for me. Even then, the success rate is low. The fact that this was alpha blood makes it impossible. I can’t erase what you already experienced.”

“Did you also know that the average person can lose more than to 2 liters of blood before blacking out? Depending on how big the cuts are, that leaves a lot of time for some fun.” He chuckles darkly. “You know, foreplay.”

“I’m dropping you off somewhere.” Dean feels a hand go into his front shirt pocket. There’s a soft crinkling of paper and the metal clink of coins. The sound reminds him of Cas and he begins to growl. Don seems to hesitate before speaking. “So you can call a cab, since your cell phone is dead.”

“If you heat up a knife real good, you can cauterize and maim at the same time. Gives you a chance to get rid of those pesky fingers and toes, but avoid a mess too early on. Otherwise clean up can be a bitch”

Don says nothing and pulls Dean to his feet. He’s still weak and has to rely heavily on Don’s strength to move forward. They climb down the stairs of what sounds like a building, the thumps of their footsteps bouncing off metal steps and cement walls. There’s a loud clack as the door opens and they step outside.  Judging by the bit of light that shines through the stitching of the bag, it’s late morning. He’s placed in the backseat of a car.

“Dean, I’m sorry…but I have to do this.”

Dean feels a jab on his arm and his body immediately feels like jello. He doesn’t have time to even think of fighting back.

\---

His face is warm when he wakes up again. The sunlight seeping through his head cover tells him they are driving mostly west.

“Where are you taking me?” Dean rasps. His head aches and his neck feels stiff from sleeping in a bad position.

The car stops. There isn’t any sound but the sweep of the wind and the squawk of grackles. Don takes Dean out of the car. Dean walks without a fight, even though some of his strength has returned. They stop and something small and metal is placed into one of his hands. He hears a thump next to his feet, like something being dropped on the ground.

“There is a convenience store about three miles north of here.” Dean hears retreating footsteps and then they stop. “And Dean, I’m sorry about the whole potion thing. I am. Who knew djinn blood could be that powerful, right?” He tries to sound light-hearted but fails. He clears his throat and there’s a pause before his footsteps retreat and eventually fade out. There’s the distant rumble of a car driving away.

Dean uncuffs himself with the key and removes the bag from his head. He looks around. He’s on a long stretch of country road, empty but for a few cows out in the wide yellow grass fields on either side. He grabs the bag with his things and begins to walk.

\---

_“Please! Plea-aaah!” He covers his face and head with his large hands. He grips his head, trying to find purchase in his short military-styled hair. He gets a hard kick to the ribs and he bends forward around himself protectively. His hands are yanked away violently. There is silence and then an agonizing, long scream erupts from his half punctured lungs. The blood flows easily down the sidewalk._

_There is laughter. “Hey, what’s going on? You hear that?” The hunter says playfully._

_He continues screaming, watching as the blood pours from his head._

_“I’ve always wanted to do that. You seen Reservoir Dogs? Great movie.” The hunter chuckles softly and throws the hunk of flesh on the man’s chest._

_He chokes and coughs. He gets another kick and then another stab right under his ribs. His screams are only broken up by the squeal of sirens._

_“It was nice. Maybe you’ll be hearing from me soon. Well, half hear me anyway.” The hunter laughs again and gets back into the rumbling vehicle nearby. He waves and smiles brightly. “Thanks for the donation!”_

\---

The guy pushes himself out of the seat and struggles a little to get his girth past the steering wheel. He makes it out with a grunt and closes the door. He strolls up the wooden steps of the Mexican cantina with a wide grin. ‘Happy Hour – 3 PM-5 PM - ½ off appetizers’ buzzes in black letters on a white sign near the side of the road, pointing to the restaurant.  
  
Dean waits a few seconds before he walks casually to the car and pulls on the handle. Unlocked.  He smirks. It’s just too easy. People will never learn. Not that this goon deserves this gorgeous car – a red 1970 Chevy Nova SS. Not a quintessential muscle car by any means, but still beautiful. Powerful. Fast.

He slips in and makes quick work of the wiring, the car roars to life. He cranks the steering wheel to the sides forcefully until the lock breaks. He hesitates for a moment. He’ll need gas money. The guy would be fairly easy to take down when he came back, no doubt sluggish from over eating.

Dean shakes his head and speeds away.  
  
\---

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

_The woman groans. She tries to wriggle her hands and hisses as the metal cuffs catch on her ripped flesh. She grits her teeth and pulls, everything slippery with thick blood. The blood trickles down the chair she is sitting on and forms small puddles around her._

_“Don’t be doing that now” Says the hunter, his back to her as he leans over a small desk. “You’ll bleed out too fast and then where would we be? Dead. That’s where. Well, not me, but you.”_

_“Sir, please. Please. I have a child. And my mother…she’s sick.”_

_The man turns his head to look back at the woman. “For without are dogs, and sorcerers, and fornicators, and murderers, and idolaters, and whoever loves and makes a lie.” He winks at her. “Revelations.”_

_The woman’s eyes widen._

_“I know. You wouldn’t think by the look of me that I’d know my bible so well. It comes with the job.” He goes back to the desk for a second and then turns around to face the woman, a long jagged knife in one hand and metal tongs in the other. “Now then, how about we try this again?”_

\---

It’s early evening by the time Dean finds the right town. He drives around the area slowly. It’s actually not that far from Peoria.

He stops in front of a posh looking hotel. He counts the levels and then drives on. At the second hotel, the levels match. He gets out and straightens his tie. He swings his suit jacket over his shoulder, hooking it on two fingers and walks up confidently to the automatic double gold and crystal doors. He knows they are gone by now but he also knows they’d probably have left some kind of trail.

His smile broadens when he sees a young, blond man at the counter. He’s well-manicured and his face looks flawless. He blushes when he sees Dean wink at him. Probably gay. Dean can do gay.

“Hey.” Dean drawls sweetly. He leans against the counter. “I was wondering if you could help me.”

“Of course, sir. How may I be of assistance?” The young man smiles.

“Well” Dean looks around embarrassed and scratches his cheek. He smiles shyly at the man. “See my uncle’s business associate Don was staying here for a few days and had me meet him for some contract negotiations. The thing is, I left a really important document in his room.” Dean leans closer and whispers with a dejected look. “I’m supposed to be helping my uncle with his firm and so far, I have done nothing but mess up. It’s just so much pressure, you know. I can’t afford to mess up again…” He looks down and sighs before looking at the man again. “Do you think I might be able to go to the suite where Don was staying and see if it’s still there?”

The man’s cheeks are noticeably pink and he’s absentmindedly leaning toward Dean. Sympathy is all over his face and Dean focuses on not smirking. People. So easy. “Well, housekeeping hasn’t been up yet…I guess there wouldn’t be any harm in letting you look around.”

“Really?” Dean quickly glances at his name tag. “You don’t know how much that would mean to me, Andrew.”

“It’s not a problem, Mr…” He pauses.

“Call me Dean.” The hunter gives him a winning grin.

The desk clerk turns red. “I’ll have someone show you up then, Dean.”

“Why don’t you show me? Unless that’s too much trouble...” Dean’s voice takes on a smooth, velvet tone.

Andrew stammers. “Oh, ye-yeah. I mean, no! Of course, it’d be no trouble at all. Which floor is it again?”

“Five.”

“Okay, five.” Andrew unlocks a drawer and pulls out a key card. Dean notices that the clerk moves with more confidence now as he strides to the elevators. He almost feels bad for the guy. He’s probably thinking he’s going to get lucky.  
  
The clerk slides the card in and presses the button for the fifth floor. They ascend the elevators in silence, the man standing tall and sneaking glances at Dean. Dean leans casually against the wall and smiles at him.

When they reach the floor, Dean walks in and immediately begins to take in the details of the suite. The bottles of potions and papers that were on the coffee table earlier have been cleared. The fire in the chimney has died out but the embers are still smoldering. Dean walks around and searches under the pillows of the sofa, the trash can, the bathroom, even under the bed. They left no traces. Dean slams his fists on the wall next to the empty closet.  
  
“Is everything okay, Dean?” The clerk asks shyly from behind him.

Dean turns around and his face is a mask of worry and defeat. “It’s not here. He must have taken it with him.” He sighs. “My uncle is going to kill me. God…It’s not like I can even call Don because my uncle did all the phone conferences…” He walks over to the sofa and plops himself down with some dramatic flair.   
  
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”

He peers up at Andrew with puppy eyes. “Do you think…maybe…no, never mind.”

“What is it?” Andrew steps closer, the eagerness to please clear on his face.

“Well, I don’t want you to get into any trouble…but maybe, I could get his phone number from your database?” He schools his features into a hopeful expression.

“I don’t think I can do that.” The clerk says regrettably. “It’s against hotel policy.”

“Oh.” Dean says sadly. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could help.”

Dean sniffs. “No, Andrew.” He looks up at him. “You’ve been a great help so far. Really. You’ve done a lot for me already. I really appreciate it.” He gives him another big smile. “You know, I hope this doesn’t sound like too big of a come on…or too offensive…” He pauses for effect. “It’s just, well, you’re really cute.” He keeps his eyes trained on the man and watches with satisfaction as his cheeks flush and he looks taken aback. Dean gives a fake cough. “Shit, sorry, that was inappropriate. I mean you probably have a girlfriend.”

“No, no, I…Thank you. I think you’re very…um.” His face gets impossibly red. “You’re pretty hot, actually.”

“Thanks.” Dean wants to laugh. “Do you think, maybe, if I don’t get fired after today and my uncle doesn’t kill me…maybe we could go out sometime?”

Andrew’s entire face lights up. “Yeah! Tha-That would be…great.”

“I just hope I’m not too poor by then.” Dean sighs.

“Maybe you won’t. I think I might be able to help you after all.” Andrew is clearly feeling bolder now and he wants to impress. “I know of a way to get into the system.”

“Oh my god, that’d be amazing.” Dean stands up and beams at the clerk. “I’d have to take you out to a really nice restaurant then.”

Andrew turns around and heads for the elevator. Dean follows. The clerk pushes the button for the lobby and they wait. He gives Dean a sly grin. “I like sushi.”

\--

_The hunter grabs his keys and opens the door to leave. There is a muffled yell and he turns back around._

_“Oh right, my bad.”_

_He walks to the bed where the young man is tied down tightly with long lengths of rope around his arms, torso, and legs. A pillow sheet is wrapped around his mouth, the fabric soaked with blood. His face is torn to shreds – deep gashes cutting across his once perfect eyebrows and large angry bruises riddling his cheeks and forehead. His skin is slightly swollen and purple from the circulation being cut off all over his body. The hunter leans down and slides his hands down the man’s hips and around his ass. The man’s eyes grow with fear and confusion and he trembles. The hunter pulls back with a wallet clutched in one hand. He takes out all the credit cards and cash and stuffs them in his own jeans pocket._

_“Thanks for all the help. You’ll probably still be alive when the cleaning person comes through.” He winks at him and walks out, leaving the man to his muted screams._

\---

Dean drives most of the night and into the early morning, periodically turning his phone back on to track his progress. As he cruises through a small town, he sees a flicker of tan and dark blue. The breaks squeal as the car jolts to a stop. The people behind him begin to honk but Dean ignores them. He looks around wildly. For a second, the imagined sight jars him and Dean struggles to compose himself. He shakes his head and focuses back on his mission. He steps on the gas hard. The goal, the end - that’s all that matters.

It’s another hour before he takes out his phone and checks his location. He smiles as he looks at the blinking red dot on the screen. He parks behind the building. He gets out and glances up at the hotel room. Expensive and extravagant.

Dean doesn’t bother with the pleasantries this time. He goes to the side of the counter, bustling with rich, impatient people wanting to check in or complain that the hotel doesn’t have the right type of artesian well water in the rooms. Dean pretends to fill out a form for a massage treatment in the hotel’s spa and glances at the computer screen closest to him, being manned by an overworked desk clerk who is too stressed to notice Dean’s presence. She clicks back and forth between the check-in and check-out screens. It takes a few minutes but finally Dean spots the name. He gets into the elevator and turns on his cell phone and connects a thin USB cable, the other end has a square plug with four metal prongs. He steps out of the elevator and walks to the suite door. He feels almost giddy as he plugs in the cable underneath the door’s card reader. He pushes the activation button. In seconds, the light above the handle turns green and he grabs it.

\---

_The rage is barely contained within him and the idea of what he is going to do next almost makes him laugh. The hunter takes his gun out and cocks it. Slowly, silently._

_He coughs dramatically. He grins as two shocked faces look up at him. “I see you took my advice.  And now I’m keeping my promise.”_

_He lifts his gun and shoots. A swirl of emotions burst through him as soon as he pulls the trigger, but it’s confusion that resonates most, as a burst of bright blue flashes before him and all the air in his lungs is violently forced out. He knows, instinctively, what he is seeing before his eyes do._

\---

The pain is excruciating. Before his body can even react, Dean feels something snap inside his mind. He welcomes it like a cool dip in a lake, enveloping him, soothing him, destroying him.

All of hell breaks loose.


End file.
